Dimensional Shift
by OhMyGodWhyDidIWriteThis
Summary: Determined to help in the battle against Cell, Bulma uses Trunks' time machine without his knowledge to alert others from the future for their aid. What results is a splinter in time with consequences far beyond the scope of anyone's imagining.
1. Send Me An Angel

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Warnings for this story include, but are not limited to - **strong language**, **dark imagery**, **disturbing and distressing imagery**, **character torture**, and **character death**.

* * *

"We need help."

It was a simple statement, and one of the more obvious ones. The timeline had gotten jacked up – whether it was from Trunks' involvement or simply because the same events never unfold the same way twice – and now they were left to face a being ( a _monster_ ) that was more horrific than he could have prepared them for. The disaster that they had narrowly avoided was going to come back full circle, only with no survivors this time; Cell was going to make damn sure of that.

A silence greeted Bulma's statement as the warriors sat mutely around the Kame house. The blue-haired woman glanced from her son – the man that was to _be_ her son, rather – to her lover, feeling frustration growing. "Well, isn't anyone going to say something?"

"Well, yeah, we need help," Krillin said cautiously. "But where are we going to get it? Gohan and Goku are already training in the Chamber; we need to wait a day for them to finish before anyone else can enter and until then…"

"So you're saying there's nothing we can do out here other than sit and wait?" She shook her head, refusing to believe that. "There has to be something, there's always been something. We've never just been useless before."

"We've never been this out of our league before either, Bulma."

"What about the time capsule?" There was a pause after she asked that, obviously waiting for a response from Trunks. The violet-haired teen was lost in his own thoughts, focus far from the conversation at hand. "Trunks, the time capsule?"

He blinked and straightened some before frowning. "… I'm not sure what you would be planning to do with it, but it wouldn't help. There's no compatible technology in the future and no one left to use it and there's only enough energy left to make one jump. Someone could use it to save themselves, but my future hasn't changed. There's no help there."

Bulma stared at him oddly, lips pursed together as she took in what he was saying. "… no. That wouldn't help at all, would it?"

-----

The tiny replicas of Cell darted forth, laughing gleefully as they tore through the unprepared warriors standing watch and Gohan could only stare in abject horror as they fought back vainly. His father, tired from the previously fight with Cell, was lagging and slipping, something that the others realized, but there was little they could do to help him, not when their own hands were full dealing with the mess presented in front of them.

As he stood, shaking in horror, Cell smirked and waited for any reaction from the young teen. His convictions, his refusal to fight, had been shaken when the android 16 had needlessly sacrificed himself, and now to stand by and watch his friends and family suffer all because of his _principles_?

_Why did you pick me Dad? I'm not strong enough to fight him…_

"Fight to defend your friends." Gohan clenched a fist, energy building up inside of him as he struggled to hold back. "Give in to your anger before it's too late for th-"

Light moves faster than sound, something that travelled at the already impressive speed of 340.29 miles per second. Light moved at 299,792,458 miles per second, a speed that even the strongest warriors were not able to approach, even though to the naked eye it appeared that they were moving too fast to be tracked.

What happened next was so fast that Gohan was unable to properly digest the chain of events. Time, something that moved at an immeasurably fast speed – you would have to _surpass_ the speed of light in order to break the time barrier, or so some theories said – seemed to freeze for a moment as every Cell Jr. simultaneously snapped back, their barrage of attacks on the rest of the warriors halted. The moment passed as a beam of light bounced down to land lightly on their backs, glowing white-hot as it spread out and molded into their flesh. Gohan blinked, feeling justifiably worried, and then they exploded.

The white energy had ripped through the midsection of the Cell copies, tearing them apart before bursting out in a wave. In front of him, Cell stood frozen in shock as his gambit backfired. "How… how could they… who could have…"

"Does he _always_ have to be such a show-off?" Alarm-bells went off in Gohan's mind as a female voice spoke behind him, a voice that was definitely not familiar. "I know it gets the job done but still…" He could practically _see_ her smiling as the laugh tinged the tone of her voice. "I shouldn't complain; I don't have to do the grunt work now."

Slowly – he felt now like he was standing between two incredibly dangerous, and possibly insane, individuals – Gohan turned to glance behind him. A woman was standing there, no older than her late teens. She had long black hair and black eyes that smiled when she looked down at him. "Hey, let me have a crack at him first, okay?" she said, winking. Too stunned to formulate a proper response – just who the hell strolls up onto a battlefield and thinks 'hey, this seems like a great place to be now?' – Gohan could only watch and stare as she patted him on the shoulder and stepped forward, leaving him standing rooted in place.

She didn't look like a fighter, not one he had ever seen, but she felt like one; certainly there was energy flowing about her, sharp and electric though she was managing to keep it all buried under her skin. Black pants with a zipper that went around each leg, the thigh on the left and the calf on the right, with the material turning white below, covering up black boots. Above that was a pale blue shirt tucked into her pants with a black mid-driff shirt above it, the sleeves trimmed in lace. Her right hand had a black glove, her left a white arm guard. Very mismatched, thrown together, but she carried herself casually and slipped a strand of hair behind one ear while smiling at Cell.

"Sorry I'm late to the party. I didn't really have an exact time to go off of and you know how these things go." The woman did seem truly apologetic and as she stepped closer to Cell she held her hand out for him to shake. "It's not going to permanently affect our relationship in the future, is it? I know first impressions are always the most important ones so I want to make sure I make a good one."

Cell could only stare.

He wanted to shout out some sort of warning as the insect-like creature adjusted to the change in situation, a smirk now spreading across his features as he reached out to grasp her hand. If she was lucky she would only meet the same fate as the other two faux fighters, a simple swat as she was thrown to the side. If she was unlucky…

There was a crunch, a snap, and Cell was flipped over and lying on his back while the woman had her foot planted firmly against his back, arm twisted about from her grip on his hand. She yawned while Gohan blinked and stepped back, stunned by the ease at which she handled herself. Cell planted his hand against the ground and pushed himself up, causing the woman to release him and jump back. She landed neatly, foot barely scrapping the rocky ground before darting forward. The green man twisted about, energy building in the palm of his hand as he drew it back, but she slammed the butt of her palm up against his chin before he had a chance, sending him flying back.

It was clear that, before, Cell had simply been 'playing', so to speak – his attempts to block and fight back against the strange woman had been minimal at best. Seeing that she actually knew what she was doing though, and was now making a mockery of him for it, enraged him and he lashed out, a volley of energy blasts thrown in her direction before darting over toward her. She seemed prepared but still was unable to dodge everything thrown at her, the energy bolts burning away patches of her shirt, jeans, and ripping through the guard on her arm. She stepped back and caught his fist as he lunged at him, the smirk that had vanished from her sudden appearance slowly making its way back to the perfect being's face, and Cell swiped his leg out to send her collapsing back to the ground.

The woman jumped, knee coming up to bury itself in his stomach, before twisting about to slam her elbow into his face. He grabbed at her arm and she used the rest of her momentum to push off of him, effectively flipping over and landing behind the fighter.

Gohan continued to watch uneasily – the female's power level was steadily rising though she was showing no outward sign of any exertion. She was _holding her own_, that was what mattered right now, and as the two continued in their twisted ballet he edged nervously away before breaking and running over to his father's side. Goku was recovering from the beating, first from Cell and then from the Jrs., but the injuries were all mostly superficial, nothing that wouldn't be healed with time.

"Dad!" Concern overriding every other emotion the young saiyan knelt down next to his father, slipping under one arm to help him stand. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Gohan…"

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!" This question, directed at him so eloquently with the oh-so subtle rage and fury, came from Vegeta. The 'prince' was limping over, blood dripping from a wound on his forehead while he held his left arm awkwardly. "First you insult me by choosing your brat over me to face Cell next-" This part of the statement was aimed at Goku, though his father seemed unfazed by Vegeta's furious rantings. "- And then you abandon the fight to allow some woman take your place?"

"I didn't abandon it," Gohan responded heatedly, Goku slowly standing beside him. "She just- she took over! "

Though he said nothing, Gohan could feel the waves of disapproval coming from his father. He turned slightly, looking back with eyes wide in worry. "D-dad?" he asked, voice lowered some. "I did the right thing, didn't I?" Goku didn't respond, his face shadowed and unreadable as he kept his focus on the ground. That confirmed the worst for Gohan and the knot that had been slowly tightened in his stomach suddenly clenched, cutting off all air.

_Oh kami, my one chance, I nearly killed everyone and now someone else is going to die because of me…_

"Well, I can't judge." The feeling from before, of nameless terror from being trapped by an unknown force, sudden came surging back through the young teen's veins. _This_ voice was eerily familiar but Trunks was still lying prone on the ground, too weak from his fight to even claw his way back to his feet. "It's not my place since this isn't, you know, my time. But since you're the ones that went and asked _us_ for help, shouldn't you be a little more grateful we're here and a little less 'Grab the shotguns, the zombie apocalypse is at our door'?"

Gohan turned and stared. The absurdity of the situation was finally setting in, forcing Goku to shake from his sullen revere and gape at the figure standing less than five feet away, the sun casting a halo behind his image. They _all_ gaped, the silence only broken by the muttered curses and the energy discharges from the fight behind them.

_Trunks_ was standing there, a Trunks who was whole and healthy and who appeared slightly older than the one they already knew, a Trunks who was dressed in black and white just like the woman, a Trunks who still had a sword strapped to his back, and a Trunks who winced when the woman hollered out: "Yo, Candy Floss! Get your ass out here and _help me for fucks sake!"_

"… Such is my life," he quipped, a forced smile dancing over his lips before he darted away.


	2. For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

What.

The.

Holy.

_Fuck._

Trunks – the one that everyone was comfortable and familiar with – was used to strange things happening. Not 'hey, let's give your world a complete mind-fuck' strange, but rampaging killer robots were pretty much the norm for how he grew up. Like Terminator, only no one ever came back in time to try to assassinate his mother and no one sent a robot back in time to tell him that he was going to grow up to be the leader of a resistance army. Unless you counted that he sent himself back in time to make sure everyone didn't die, a plan which had seemed to royally backfire-

So maybe the robots were the only similarity his life had to the movie. That, and the time travel. _Still_, a certain amount of normalcy was expected every day. Like, you wake up, you brush your teeth, you go off to fight the big bad evil bent on destroying the world; there were parts in there that were definitely not of the norm, but it had a flow that he could wrap his mind around. There were no pieces that were just thrown into the mix, nothing that happened solely so that he could react to it.

Except maybe up until now, the moment that had to be the most surreal incident of his life. Lying, bleeding and wounded and feeling unable to scrap together enough energy to sit up, and watching a carbon-copy of yourself being verbally harassed by a woman all while fighting alongside her to kick the big-bad evil's ass had to rank up somewhere in the top ten list of 'Moments I Never Wanted To Have Happen In My Life'.

Watching his parents have sex, or knowing that he had somehow managed to facilitate the action, and knowing that he had missed his own _conception_ and _birth_ by mere days was number one on that list, but it was a number one that he never, ever, wanted to think about.

Whoever they were, they had obviously known what they were going to be dealing with and had prepared according; it hadn't taken long for Cell to be taken down, every cell ( no pun intended ) to be eradicated by a final ki blast from his merry look-alike. The two were left battered and bruised, blood dripping from the rips and tears in the jeans and shirts, but a comparison between them and any other fighter showed a world of difference; they were still up and chatting, laughing wearily together as they walked carefully over the broken ground, tired but not broken from the fight.

Someone crouched down beside him, offering a hand out to help him stand, and Trunks found himself face-to-face with the man who looked like him. He smiled softly, giving a small shrug with one shoulder as the confused warrior hesitantly reached up. "I know, it's all a bit confusing now… but you out of everyone here should be able to figure out, or at least understand what's going on better than anyone else. You pulled this same trick a few years ago." As Trunks stood the man grinned. "I should know; I did the same thing too. At least," he added, looking momentarily perplexed, "I... _think_ I did."

_That_ certainly explained things.

Pain still wracked his body, causing even the action of standing to be a challenge, but it was something that Trunks could easily bear. The woman was standing a few feet behind the second purple-haired man, arms crossed with a sardonic smile playing over her lips, and as the man glanced back she rolled her eyes. Trunks stepped closer to them hesitantly, seeing his father, Piccolo, and the rest gathering as well in his peripheral vision.

"You don't need to act like we're going to bite," the woman said lightly, sliding the hand with the now-torn glove back through her hair. It got caught on a knot and she made a face before shaking her hand out. "It'd be a pretty warped plan, coming back to get rid of the guy that was going to wipe half of you out only to turn around to get rid of you ourselves. I could think of quite a few better ways to accomplish that… namely _not_ getting rid of Cell in the first place."

"So, ah…" The woman arched a brow as the question caught on Trunks' tongue. He seemed to have become the de-facto spokesperson for the group, a role he wasn't exactly comfortable fulfilling. "Who… exactly are you? And why, again, are you here?"

They both grinned in response to that, the purple-haired man stepping back to sling an arm around the black-haired woman. "Well, my name is Trunks, as you probably could have guessed," he said. "And this-" he started, gesturing at the woman.

"My name is Mumei," she said, cutting him off. He blinked before shrugging, accepting her answer as fact. "You guys sent for us, remember? With the message in the time machine asking for help…?"

Trunks stared at her for a moment, his mind blanking out as to what she could possibly be referring to. But several things were suddenly made clear; they were from the future, one where more warriors were left alive and whole after the android incident and one where he was even stronger. And they somehow had been made aware of that horrible mess that was about to be made of the past, something that wouldn't have been too hard to accomplish though with their references that they were _asked_ to come…

… _Goddamnit Bulma._ A sickening sort of sense was starting to descend upon the situation, one that made Trunks sigh. He had shrugged his mother's questions off earlier – after all, he was the one that knew what to do with the time machine. If he said there was no way to use it to ask for more aid, then there was no way…

Excepting the fact, of course, that his mother was a technological genius and that she did, technically, build the damn thing anyways.

A smile was plastered on his face as he nodded at the two. "… So we did," Trunks said after a moment, voice sounded slightly strained. Mumei twisted her mouth into an expression of perplexity before glancing at the second Trunks with another shrug.

-----

"So what's your future like?"

Two ships had come to pick the warriors up. Yamcha, Tien, and Trunks had gone in the first one along with the reporters, Mr. Satan, and his disciples – the future warrior flat out refused to be near the other future copy of himself longer than necessary – while Krillin, Piccolo, Vegeta, Gohan, and Goku stuck around to ride in the second one along with the two new comers. There was a bit of an awkward silence as Gohan and Krillin regarded them in almost unabashed awe while the others were more reserved, with Vegeta practically seething in anger. Trunks at least had the decency to act somewhat ashamed; Mumei seemed to hardly care and acted as if nothing out of the norm was occurring.

"Huh?" The dark-haired woman glanced back at Gohan, blinking. "Our future? You mean, what's like… our time like?" she asked, pointing to herself. Gohan nodded slowly and she made a moue before glancing at Trunks. "Not really sure that's a question I can answer…"

"I don't see why not. We already changed it; whatever happens is already going to be different." Trunks stretched out, back pressed against the metal wall of the ship, and tilted his head slightly to stare at the five judgmental faces. Gohan was struck by how different he seemed from the Trunks he knew – the sense of duty, obligation, the worry and seriousness were all there, but a layer of relaxation and playfulness was coated over it. The clothing was different, but it was more that he wore his whole _body_ differently, acting far more at ease while still accepting command of the situation.

"Okay, all right." Mumei was sitting cross-legged and used her hand to flick her hair back; there was something about her that seemed familiar to Gohan as well, though he couldn't place it. "I just mean… what do you want to know about it? Who's there? How we live? What all we do…?"

"Who are you?" Vegeta asked harshly, glaring at the woman. Her eyes widened.

"Ookay… I'm a friend of Trunks. When he saw that I had an aptitude for fighting he started teaching me different things that he had learned, mainly from you Gohan, but I'm no one… I mean, if you look I'm sure you'll find a Mumei, you'll find me, but I'm no one special right now."

"So you're just a human?" She smiled at the question.

"Yup. Just a regular old human, fighting alongside a half-saiyan against evil robots that are trying to take over the world." Mumei laughed, glancing over at Trunks. "I'm pretty _good_ for a human, but when push comes to shove I'm nowhere near as strong as he is. I mean, you could definitely see he was the one carrying us through that fight."

Gohan didn't argue that point, but frowned to himself; from where he had been watching, they both had seemed to be holding their own equally well… "So you learned from me in the future? I don't get it; Trunks came back, he originally came back in time to stop all the destruction from happening. Shouldn't you have been able to learn from…?" His question trailed off as he looked from Mumei to the second Trunks, waiting for one of them to answer.

The purple-haired man took this question, sighing slightly as he did. "I don't… exactly have any memories of coming back, because _I_ didn't. Time works in funny ways; there are an infinite number of time loops that have already completed before this one, and in one only Android 17 and 18 woke up and then I came back in time to warn you. After that came Cell, though, and that's our timeline… Cell destroyed everything. You, Gohan… survived, but… A lot of people ended up dying. We trained to be strong enough to defeat him but it took _years_ and we swore never again, the destruction wasn't worth it, but then…"

"Then the message came," Mumei said. "You have no idea. I mean, we were… 5, 6 when Cell was finally defeated, just barely being trained in everything, and Gohan, you were like… the world's best dad combined with the world's greatest older brother. And we knew that what we were living in, what we were going through, we were happy with it, we made a life, but it just wasn't _right_, you know? Totally was because of a stupid fuck up that had happened before… and of course there's a chance that doing this means we're opening the door for another fuck up down the line but… you guys are _alive_ now and Cell's _dead_ and it's like halle-fuckin-lujah, praise the lord, now everything can finally go back on track the way it's supposed, at least for some people."

There was a moment of silence after she finished her speech. Gohan felt oddly, if awkwardly, touched; he obviously meant a lot to them, though there was no way he could ever possibly return the same sentiment. Vegeta broke the silence and the feeling, though, with a snort and a harsh question: "You were nearly six when Cell was defeated? It took you that long to kill him?"

"Actually, Mumei wasn't even born when Cell first started, so it was more like seven years, but yeah," Trunks said calmly. "It took us that long. I guess that doesn't match up to whatever level of perfection we should have been striving to meet but at the time survival was a little higher on our priority list that proving we had bigger dicks that the bad guy." Mumei snorted into her hand, grinning madly at his response. "So sorry to disappoint, Dad."

"O… kay. Most awkward family reunion ever," Krillin mumbled lowly before speaking up. "So now what are you guys going to do? Sounds like your world's pretty torn to pieces."

"Oh, no, it's not," Mumei said quickly. "Cell went around and pretty much fucked everything over, yeah, but we killed him, right? And that was… a good ten years ago, more than that, I'm legal now so it had to be awhile ago so Gohan and everyone else all started rebuilding. And that's what we do. We train, and we protect, and we rebuild. It's turned into a pretty sweet gig now and everyone knows us and we're all like 'hey, it's those guys' and we're like 'yeah, we're awesome' so it's all worked out." She nodded, chewing slightly on her lower lip. "Yeah… so that's kind of… not really working out for any of you, is it?"

"I don't know 'Mei, I think your oh-so-eloquent 'they're so awesome' totally captured a picture of modern day life living in a post-apocalyptic world environment," Trunks drawled out sarcastically. "Your words are like an artists' brush."

Hearing the two interact made Gohan smile. Whatever they had gone through they were still friends and they were still able to joke around, something that allowed him to have hope for himself and his own future. Maybe he wouldn't find a friend like her – they definitely seemed to have a bond that wouldn't be found just from any ordinary relationship – but regardless of whether his parents chose for him to follow a life of scholarly pursuits or to train as a warrior he wouldn't be ostracized from the rest of the world. Hell, he would always have the younger, present-day Trunks to spend time with.

"So yeah, ignore the guy with the girly hair," Mumei went on, hardly batting an eye at Trunks interruption. The man grinned as she rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder hard. "I mean, really, who listens to someone who looks like they've got a wad of spun candy for hair? My point was, we're probably going to go back home. Staying here wouldn't be a good idea anyways… this isn't where we're from. And they need us back there; things won't have changed even though… you already know the whole time stream pitch."

It made sense, but it also made him feel vaguely sad, both that they weren't going to even have a chance to get to know the two warriors and that the two warriors were going to simply hop back to their torn-apart world, smiles still stapled to their faces. It was probably better that way, Gohan realized – the other Trunks would have the memories of the family he could have had always hanging around, something that would both help and haunt him when he was alone, while they would only know that they _helped_ and that was all they needed to do. Still-

"So soon?" Goku's strange stretch vow of silence was broken suddenly as he looked up, blinking in confusion at the two. "But you just got here; you haven't even met Bulma or Chi-Chi or anyone else and you have to be tired after that battle. Don't you want to take a rest or something?" Mumei smiled, but it seemed wane in comparison to the expression she had before.

"It's not that we want to just 'fight and run' or anything like that… we just really don't want to pollute your time stream. So much has already gone wrong because of the few times people have gone back before. Coming back and defeating Cell? Totally an A plus. But if we stick around, that could be when we end up doing something that pushes our actions over the edge from being helpful to being totally useless."

"As soon as we're sure you're all safe and that Cell is truly dead, we'll go back to where we landed and leave. What the other Trunks does is up to him, though we advise that he departs as soon as possible as well." Trunks frowned before shrugging. "I would have liked to use this opportunity to get to know all of you – all we have left are some records and what we've been told by our Gohan. But… But I'll pass up those opportunities to ensure that this timeline is left intact.

"This timeline is what's important now. We've made our own lives by picking up the pieces. I don't expect, I don't want you to need to do the same."


	3. Face The Strange

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

_**Seven Years Later…**_

_I can't believe I'm going to be late._

Eighteen-year-old Gohan Son ran down the streets of Satan City as fast as he reasonably could, making sure to keep himself in check so as to not seem like anything other than a normal panicking high-school student. He looked the part – long sleeved white shirt, blue vest, and red pants – but bursting off into the sky would shatter whatever illusion he had managed to craft for himself. It was frustrating to feel the power surging under his skin, knowing that he could jump forward at any second and bolt his way to the goal, but giving in to the temptation just to make sure that he arrived before the final bell rang would make his earlier actions completely pointless. His actions were stupid and inane and why the _hell_ did he feel the need to stop off and try to prevent a robbery, why didn't he just act like every other unsuspecting citizen and _mind his own damn business?_ Butting in was stupid, interfering was stupid, _transforming into a super saiyan was the definition of stupid._

All in all, the start of his illustrious career to become an educated student was not beginning on the foot that his mother probably hoped it would. Maybe if he got all his stupidity out of the way _now_ he wouldn't be so tempted to act so stupid later, but it seemed like a pretty dismal sign for the teen.

_Mom is going to have my head on a platter for this is she ever finds out. I am so. Absolutely. Deeaaa... hello…_

A woman bumped into Gohan, mumbling a low apology as she glanced up and smiled briefly at him. She was fairly pretty with lightly tanned skin, dark eyes, and dark hair – incredibly familiar, in fact, though he couldn't place where he had seen her before. The moment she set eyes on him, though, she appeared startled and jerked away, lowering her head as she hurried away.

Gohan paused, a sudden dilemma setting in. He was going to be late, that much was certain, but _how_ late he was depended on whether or not he kicked his ass into gear again or if he indulged in his curiosity and followed the woman. It wasn't just that she looked like someone he used to know ( though if he was pressed to answer just who exactly that was Gohan doubted he would be able to say ), it was that she felt familiar too. Everyone had a certain amount of energy that flowed about them, often too low to register. Hers was higher and curled and spiked in a pattern he knew he had felt before once upon a time. _When…? Where did I see you before…?_

It really wasn't a hard battle, choosing between first day of class and the mystery of the mysterious girl. Class was _always_ going to be there and he was going to be late, whether he hurried or not. If he left now he may never catch up to the girl again, though, and he could miss his one and only chance to reconnect with someone from his past. That rationale seemed as good as any and the teen nodded before skulking off after the woman.

The woman wasn't fairly tall, maybe only five foot four, and her hair curled to an end at her waist. She was dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt that had some sort of logo on it, though his brief encounter hadn't given him enough time to be able to make out what was on the front. A red and silver arm warmer covered her left arm, something he found rather odd; it was a fairly warm day out so she couldn't be doing it for any practical purposes, and if she was wouldn't she have on both? Maybe it was just a weird trend that he wasn't familiar with as fashion wasn't exactly Gohan's forte.

She went a few blocks, stopping to look back every now and again to see if she was being followed. It wasn't hard to keep sight of her, especially since she seemed to be so on edge she was making the most basic of mistakes – glancing suspiciously back to make sure no one was following you was a sure fire way to make sure someone _would_. After watching her turn a corner Gohan paused, allowing her a few seconds to stay ahead before rounding after her just in time to see the door to a small café sliding shut, the bell hanging above the door still ringing softly.

_So, in the mood for a good cup of coffee, eh?_ he thought, creeping after her. There was something terribly wrong with what he was doing, stalking after a woman who had just happened to bump into him on the sidewalk, but he felt that her response to his actions completely justified it – _freaking the shit out and running off to hide was not the normal reaction. This needs to be investigated __**now.**_

The café was decorated by a large glass window adorned with its logo, a giant cup of steaming coffee above the words 'Java Hut'. Gohan crouched down, making sure he was below the pane of glass, and pressed up against the brick of the building; saiyan hearing may not rival that of namekian, but it was far better than humans and the woman was frantic, her hissed whispering coming through loud and clear to the eavesdropping youth.

"… not safe!" There was a scrape and a thud; she must have pulled a chair out and sat down in it. "What in the hell were you _thin_-"

"I was thinking, 'Mei, that we needed to get some information and this was the only place it was available." The voice ( both voices, actually ) and the name were familiar. _Mei? When did I meet a woman named Mei…?_ The second voice was male and was full of barely-suppressed anger. "Look, I knew there were going to be risks, but it was something we both accepted when we decided to do this."

"It's not the _danger_ that I'm worried about – we did this because it was either this or something worse. But running around, flaunting that we're here in plain sight?" The conversation was slowly slipping into confusion and the teen frowned, brow knitting together. "We're _safe_ already. I think we should just go and find some place to hide…"

"We're not going to be safe until we're absolutely sure we can't be followed here," the man responded. "And until we get our hands on something that can do that, we stay here."

His curiosity was burning too badly at this point; hearing without being able to see the conversation wasn't providing enough information. With a deep breath Gohan slowly inched his way up, eyes scanning the nearly empty café for the two whispering cohorts.

They were surprisingly easy to spot, and when he did the memory of when he last saw them suddenly came flooding back. The woman with black hair, the man with purple. He was glancing down at the table but just as the teen was looking up in shock he happened to raise his eyes, their gaze meeting, and Gohan knew that he was caught. It didn't matter; nothing compared to sudden knowledge that _what the crap Trunks is back from the future with his crazy violent female friend. _

Even that knowledge suddenly seemed unimportant when both the female and Trunks got up, expressions of pure rage on both their faces as they turned to hunt the teen down. Gohan's eyes widened as he pushed away from the wall, scrambling to run. He wasn't nearly fast enough, however, before a black gloved hand clamped down on his shoulder and he found himself whirled around, face-to-face with a scowling violet-eyed man as the bell from the shop still dinged in the background.

"… so, you come here often, or…?"

----

Rage wouldn't begin to touch on the emotion that boiled through the veins of the cursing female. It wasn't all geared toward the young peeping tom, though given the chance she would gladly smack him through a wall ( it was starting to seem like a reasonable solution to the problem at hand anyway ), and most of it was screaming for her to grab the colored-locks of her 'companion' and yank his head back while screaming in his ear. It was _his_ fault that they were even in this mess; his idea for them to come back, his idea for them to go around the city, his idea for them to not run for the hills and hide when they had the chance.

Gohan was terrified, jaw convulsively dropping down slightly before shutting with an audible 'clack', the process repeating over and over and over as he took one, two, three nervously stuttered steps back. Trunks paced him, the rather foreboding glare practically permanently plastered on his face, and Mumei realized it was a wonder that the teen hadn't collapsed from shock already. If this continued much longer the younger teen was going to piss himself like one of those worthless rat dogs and, if they were lucky, collapse in a state of catatonic shock.

The alternative to that scenario involved another act that only worthless rat dogs did, the violation of Trunks' leg, and Mumei couldn't help but grin and snort at that mental image.

"Boys, _boys!_" She stepped forward, forcibly inserting herself between the hunter and the prey. "We can deal with this in a fashion that's semi-rational that doesn't have to involve killing someone." Her words did little to relax the frightened and trapped teen, but Trunks' expression smoothed out slowly, the scowl fading into a displeased frown. "Let's just… sit down, and talk, and then move on to the irrational beatings."

"You…" The word came out a bit higher than Gohan intended, squeaking a bit as he shook his head. "I thought you two went back to your time. Wasn't that the big speech, let's not pollute this stream so that everyone could live happily ever after?" Mumei had to give him some credit – the kid was practically shaking in his boots but managed to give Trunks an evil eye that could kill. "Was it just a cover? Are you guys actually androids-"

"Oh for the love of-!" Trunks grabbed the front of Gohan's shirt, jerking him forward roughly to abruptly cut his statement off. The woman winced, lifting a hand up to cover her eyes. "No, we are _not_ androids. Yes, we really _are_ from the future and _yes_, I really am Trunks Briefs. _No_, we did not stay back in your time for all these years – I'm guessing from how you look we would probably be in our mid twenties if we had and do we look that old? If you would _shut up_ and _calm down_ we would explain. Does this satisfy you?"

Mumei tapped him on the shoulder before giving a little shrug. "It might satisfy him a little more if you weren't strangling him while screaming the answers at him."

"I wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't acting so fucking stupid!"

"Okay, _okay._" Pushing Trunks back from Gohan a second time, Mumei stepped in between to make sure there were no more physical attacks for the moment. The few patrons left in the café were starting to stare and point, signaling their cue to get the hell out of Dodge, so she grabbed onto the young half-saiyan's hand tightly. "Look, I'm sorry, but you need to come with us for now. Just until we can explain what's going on and we get some of this mess sorted out." Something a bit like a smile quirked at her lips and she tilted her head slightly. "I promise you, we're not the bad guys. We came back to save you once before, remember?"

Gohan nodded slowly, wondering how he could _forget_? When she had first appeared to stop Cell from wrecking havoc it was like something from a nightmare – wonderful, but too confusing and frightening to be appreciated. He _knew_, though, more so than anyone else, just what they had saved and what they had prevented. The feeling of being lost, of the world suddenly being yanked out from under him and walking, topsy-turvy, through unfamiliar territory was coming back, but he owed them time for an explanation before jumping to conclusions. "All right but…" One hand reached up, rubbing the area below his throat where Trunks' burst of anger had violently snagged. "Look, I don't know what's going on here. Don't take your anger out on me."

Trunks nodded reluctantly, hands shoved into the pockets of dark jeans. "… I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way." It was the understatement of the century, but it was the best the younger teen was going to get.

"Okay, so as adorable as this is we should probably book ass now before one of the concerned citizens calls the police us on for beating up and kidnapping an unsuspecting youth." Gohan hesitated, feet planted firmly on the ground as she tugged on his hand – human strength wasn't comparable to that of a saiyans – but the thought of what would happen if his dad, Vegeta, or _holy shit his mom_ found out that the police had to intervene made him suddenly break forward, jogging alongside the other two as they hurried away from the scene.


	4. Divide And Conquer

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

Keys jingled in Mumei's hand as she yanked them from the pocket of her jeans, mumbling under her breath while she sorted through the various gold, silver, and bronze metal pieces that hung off the round hoops. A leather patch with a unicorn stamped on it swung down when she finally settled on one, grinning triumphantly before unlocking the rather well-worn door before them.

"Probably could have just busted the door down, but then comes the whole problem of getting our security deposit back and that's over two hundred bucks that you don't want to just throw down the drain," she remarked idly, swinging the door open before stepping in. Gohan, far more at ease now that tempers had cooled, gave her a curious glance before following behind her. The last of the merry trio was the displeased Trunks; he pulled the door shut behind him, the plaster in the wall surrounding it cracking with the force.

The apartment was small and low-rent – walls that were probably once white but were now yellowed with age with tears and black streaks going across the bottom, countertops riddled with holes, and a floor that looked like burning it would be the only way to remove all the layers of dirt that had built up over the years. Clothing, dishes, and papers were liberally strewn about and, when he glanced down the hall, Gohan could see into an equally messy bedroom. There was only one other door that must have led to a bathroom, meaning that the two must be sharing the room. _Fun._

"So, this is…"

"Awful." Trunks sat down in one of the rickety wooden chairs and made a face. As he slouched back Gohan was able to finally get a good look at him – black jeans, orange t-shirt ( the words _anti-hero _were printed on it under the image of several poorly drawn people holding briefcases ), and a black baseball cap to help hide his hair. Mumei shrugged in response, tossing the keys on the table before joining him. "You don't have to be nice; this place is a dump."

Gohan frowned, not wanting to outright agree with him, but it was hard to find anything else to say about an apartment that was begging to be torn down. "Okay, so why come back just to live in a place like this?" he asked, gingerly taking a seat of his own. They _seemed_ safe enough, but there were splotches of something red dried on. He tried to surreptitiously wipe it off before realizing it was old paint.

"We didn't, not at first. We went back for a year and everything was… fine. I mean, we had a home, we had people we knew, you were still around, and it was like, all right, now we can just rest easy." Mumei spoke while Trunks seemed on edge, watching to make sure she said the right thing. "But..."

"You told us to come back." Gohan blinked, startled, and turned his eyes to look at the bright-eyed man. Trunks smiled slightly, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Not you, of course, but the one we knew. There was only so much that we could accomplish – our world was running out of its need for fighters and was starting to develop a desire for those who could create, who could build, and though we had done so much to protect it no one could really forget that we weren't… I mean, I'm not entirely human and she's not entirely normal, either."

"So the people you protected, they didn't want you anymore?" Gohan asked.

"Oh, it wasn't like that. They didn't just wake up one day and shun us. We were always welcome, always accepted, but it was always just a little more hesitant with us than with other people." Mumei smiled brightly at him, but he could tell that it was forced, that she was just going through the motions. "You, Gohan, you were the one that they looked up to, you were the leader, but we were just the sidekicks and the kids and we… didn't have as much of a life there as we thought we did."

"So you decided to come back to our time," Gohan said. It wasn't adding up – Mumei looked to be in her early twenties, Trunks a year or so older, so they had definitely spent some time in their own stream before coming back. But if the explanation was as simple as that why were they trying so hard to hide from everyone? No one was going to care – his mom and Bulma would be ecstatic to have another woman around and dad and Vegeta would love to have another person to spar with who was up to 'their level'. And what was with their earlier conversation about needing to find the information?

His time spent bent over a book instead of on a training field had cost him some of his edge, but Gohan was more than smart enough to realize they were trying to pull the wool, so to speak, over his eyes. Calling them out on it wouldn't help the situation, though – Trunks seemed like he was panicky enough to resort to either attacking or just running, while Mumei would just bolt before Gohan would have a chance to get two words out. Smiling falsely himself, the younger teen nodded and leaned back in the chair. "Well you guys don't need to hide," he said quickly, preventing either Trunks or Mei from responded. "I'm sure everyone would understand – and they'd love to have you around! I mean, this is our chance to really get to know you guys, right?"

The two exchanged worried glances with each other, an expression Gohan had seen used between his own mother and father recently when it came to his brother, Goten. Some sort of subtle communication was going on between them, words and ideas being expressed merely through frowns, head tilts, and bats of the eye, and it was a mystifying and amazing language he had yet to be able to comprehend. After a moment Trunks sighed, turning to look back at Gohan.

"Maybe you're right. Hiding out here… we just didn't want to be a burden to anyone. It's not like you ever even _knew_ us," he said sadly. "We just needed to… we were planning on going someplace far away from here so that this wasn't going to end up being an issue, but if you think…"

His suspicions were immediately erased when he heard that. This wasn't the Mirai Trunks that everyone had gotten to spend all those days with, coming to know and love. Despite how much he looked the same, he was an entirely different person and just _knowing_ that they were going to be confusing the two together was probably more than enough reason to want to avoid everyone like the plague. "Of course everyone would be happy to meet you," Gohan reassured them. "Look, you can come with me – I think going to see my parents first would probably be the safer route. You can meet Goten too, he's my younger brother. Mom and Dad though, they'll be so happy to see you and I know that Bulma and Vegeta will be too, even if he doesn't exactly show it."

An odd expression crossed Mumei's face. "You… have a younger brother?" she asked slowly, nose wrinkling slightly. "Named Goten?"

"… Y-yeah. Why?"

"… I just wish that I could have met the Goten of my time. That's all." There seemed to be more than that to her sudden change in demeanor but she was blocking off all emotions, making it impossible for Gohan to read her. "Sorry, it just sort of brought everything home. Of course there are going to be… Never mind." Mumei shook her head, smiling vaguely. "It's not like we have a whole list of plans for the day. But, you were definitely hurrying off somewhere," she started, eyeing Gohan suspiciously.

"Nowhere that's _important_," he said hurriedly. Bringing home the two future warriors was pretty much his last hope at avoiding death by his mother's hands and Mei seemed to have a strangely Chi-Chi like frown on her face as Gohan lied; the younger teen suspected that she would tell him to head back to class and that introductions could wait until _later_. "Especially not in comparison to _this_. You guys don't want to stay here any longer than you have to, right?"

Trunks and Mei glanced around the cracked and torn apartment building before nodding simultaneously in agreement. "All right," Trunks said, standing slowly and snatching the keys from the table top. "Let's go say hi to the… folks."

----

The ground came looming up far too fast for Mei and the female stumbled when they hit the ground, the white energy surrounding her dissipating as she stumbled back. Her arms wind-milled for a moment before Trunks grabbed her, one hand on her forearm and the other against her back, and helped her up. "Haha, thanks," she said sheepishly, a faint blush spreading against the bridge of her nose. "Guess I still haven't got that quite down yet." Trunks 'hrrmphed' in response, releasing her as they stood at the edge of the forest in front of the small, quaint seeming house in the woods.

"So, here we are," Gohan said after a moment. They seemed entranced with the view and he stared at them curiously before glancing back at the house himself. It was nothing more than home to him, the same cramped quarters he returned to everyday to be greeted by the same lectures from his mom ( "Your studies Gohan, why aren't you working on your studies!" ) and the same carefree pleas from his father ( "Let's go train, Gohan… you know Goten's too young to be a _real_ match." ). It felt like being stuck in the middle of a tug-of-war match, a feeling that made him drag his feet when it came to coming back home every night.

But to an outsider… untouched nature still surrounded the house and inside was his _family._ It was something he knew he would never be able to comprehend, even after being dragged away from his mother and father by Piccolo all those years ago. Having the knowledge that he could always come home to them was something he took for granted, something that occasionally even annoyed him, but it was always there. They never had that luxury. "… Hey," Gohan said again, cautiously and gently. "Do you guys need some time…?"

Violet-eyes blinked before glancing over at his partner. Mei smiled and shook her head. "No, we're fine," Trunks said softly. "It's just been a long time since we've been able to see something like this."

"A house?"

"A home. And, also, a forest. Both are almost equally overwhelming now that we're in close quarters." Mei rolled her eyes before lazily punching him in the shoulder, causing Trunks to grin widely while rubbing his arm. "What, is that answer not good for you?"

"You're such a dork. A dweeb. _Nerd,_" she finally settled on and the man laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

"Cause having an appreciation for the outdoors is totally geeky. That's right. Gohan, go…" Trunks made a hand gesture in his direction while making an exasperated face at Mei. The girl grinned, one arm lazily locked around the waist of the half-saiyan fighter before trailing after the younger teen slowly.

He went first, bracing himself for the initial panicked reaction from his mother. His father and Goten had to be gone for the day, off training – it was possible that Mei's sudden energy flare during her less-than-graceful landing would bring them back sooner, but there was no way they were actually _here_ and still unaware of the two new presences outside. His suspicions were confirmed when the teen was closer to the house and a glance through a window revealed his mother in the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked on what had to be dinner. _All right, you can do this Gohan…_

She froze, arms flared out almost comically as Gohan tried to step silently into the house. The door creaked, the boards moaned, and his mother had a sixth-sense for catching these things, though, and he hadn't even gotten more than a foot inside before he knew he was busted. Mentally cursing ( though he was going to have to face her anyway, did it matter if she heard him? ) he sighed when she called out, "Goku? Goten? Are you back so soon?"

"No, mom," Gohan said, bracing himself as he walked into the kitchen. Chi-Chi blinked and turned slowly, staring at him with a blank expression. "I, uh… never made it to school…"

"What _happened_ to you?! Did someone attack you? Oh my poor baby-!" The sound of shattered pottery filled the air when the bowl slipped from her hands. Chi-Chi inhaled sharply before stepping up to Gohan, one hand on his cheek as she looked up at him, eyes wide with concern. He could only stare back, dumbfounded as she why she would be responding like that. "Oh, I know I should have made sure I was sending you to a safe school…"

"What? No, mom!" For a moment Gohan swore he heard someone chuckling behind him but a quick glance revealed nothing. "Mom, I wasn't attacked," he said, gripping her wrist loosely and pulling her arm down. There was confusion in her eyes and it clicked – the marks on his neck and the tears in his shirt from Trunks' ever so gentle inquisition. "I mean… no, I wasn't. I'm fine. That's not why I'm here."

"No?" She slipped her arm back, the worry slowly draining from her eyes with a look of cold, hard disappointment replacing it. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you at _school_?"

"Okay, remember all those years ago when that whole… android thing happened and Trunks came back from the future to help us?" He smiled, though the expression wobbled a moment when his mother responded with a death glare. "… well you remember, we told you about how these two other people came from, another Trunks and a female, and they helped us kill Cell so quickly that no one was really hurt and no one got killed."

"And you're skipping school out of deference to them?" Chi-Chi asked, her eyes widening slightly. Gohan winced.

"No, I'm not. Mom, I didn't get to school today because I ran into them." His mother stared, brow furrowing slightly as she tried to process what Gohan was saying. "They're right outside, they were just going to hide in the city, but I told them they needed to come home to see everyone and mom?" Voice trailing off slightly, he frowned, head tilted in confusion as Chi-Chi stiffened. "Mom, what's…?"

Glancing back, Gohan saw Mumei slowly walking through the front door, stepping toward the kitchen. A nervous smile was playing over her lips, her actions and attitude that of a woman expecting to be screamed at or worse. "H-hello, M-… ma'am," she said, stopping at the edge of the kitchen. "I've heard… I've heard a lot about you."

For a moment it felt like time had stopped again, eternity suspended in perdition, and even though he _knew_ that Mumei was more than capable of fending off his mother Gohan was fearful that he was about to witness a murder being committed at the hands of Son Chi-Chi. It snapped back and suddenly both women were hurrying toward each other, his mother sobbing about how she was 'the miracle who saved his baby' and 'Mei saying how she was like 'the mother she had never known'. Gohan could only blink, feeling that he could spend years trying and failing to understand the mystery that was women.


	5. X Amount Of Words

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

Goten was confused.

That, honestly, wasn't a state of being that was new for him – he was confused quite often, especially when he went over to spend time with Trunks and his mother started to go on and on about whatever new project she was working on, or his father started to ramble on about 'saiyan pride' this or 'saiyan pride' that. It never really bothered him – that was the _Briefs_ family, it was expected that they were to have some confusing traits. Everything over at his household was always nice and simple and easy to follow. At least, it was until this morning.

Something had happened and his father had suddenly acted all… different. He had rushed home, their training only half finished, and had completely forgotten about taking him to see Trunks. Goten didn't mind – it seemed like something interesting was going on at his home today – but before he could find out what his mother had ordered him up to his room. The small half-saiyan had pouted, whined, and stomped, but she was unrelenting. His older brother smiled sympathetically at him, mouthing that he would be up soon, but it did little to sooth his temper as he raged up the steps to his room.

"What didI _do?_" he pleaded, looking down the stairs one last time to try to reason with his father. The man only shook his head before turning away, signaling to Goten that it was a lost cause. He made a face and flung himself into his room, door slamming shut dramatically behind him. _I didn't do anything!_

For a few minutes the child pouted, arms crossed over his chest as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. A few open books laid strewn across his floor, covered with various beaten and battered stuffed animals and well-used toys, but he only apathetically nudged at them with the toe of his boot before sighing dramatically and flinging himself back on the bed. His sweat-soaked training gi stuck uncomfortably to his back, dirtying the comforter, and for a moment he entertained the thought of changing, but that was something that would make his _mother_ happy, someone who was tantamount to traitor at this point.

Still, making himself suffer simply to prove a point… the young boy pulled himself up, deciding to settle on the middle ground of 'dirty clothing on the floor.' Yanking the orange shirt up and off, he dropped it onto floor of his room before yanking open the middle dresser drawer. A folded sleeveless blue shirt was on top and he grabbed it, hardly caring how poorly it went with his pants, and started to fumble into it when something caught his eye.

Outside, standing on the lawn, was his father and mother. Goten blinked, blue cloth obscuring his vision for moment as he stepped closer to the window. Through his tinted view he could see that they weren't alone; two figures were standing out there, hands gesturing emphatically toward his parents. He struggled with his shirt, mouth twisting as he yanked it down over his head of unruly black hair. Locked in his room so his parents could have some private time with some friends? _I bet Gohan's down there actin' all mature and grown-up,_ he thought, nose wrinkling as he pressed up to the window.

A man and a woman. His father seemed eager to be talking with them, stepping forward to grasp the man's hand before pulling him forward into a tight hug. Even from here Goten could see that the man was less than comfortable with the trademark Son exuberance, arms held out awkwardly at his sides before he slowly lowered them to pat his father's back. The woman seemed to have the sense to stay farther back, making a gesture at herself and then at the man.

"Spying? Little brother, I thought you were raised better."

Goten jerked forward, head slamming against the glass before he stumbled back. He rubbed his sore forehead, turning to face his grinning brother with a sheepish expression, mind racing to come up with explanations for his behavior. "Um, no, I wasn't… I was just, I was trying to see… I just wanted to…"

"It's okay." His older brother had been leaning in the doorway, smiling at him and at his fumbled attempts to explain himself before he stood and straightened, walking over toward him. "You're curious. I don't blame you; I would be too if I was suddenly locked away from all the excitement. You can't really blame mom and dad though… they're just not really sure how to deal with our visitors, not right now. You'll get to meet them pretty soon and pretty soon all the excitement will be taken right out of it."

"But why can't I meet them _now_?" Goten asked, the pout returning to his face. He huffed and Gohan grinned as he sat down on his messy bed. Seeing this, the youngest Son son hurried over, scrambling up to take a seat next to his older brother. "How come everyone else gets to talk to them except for me?"

"Well, do you remember all the stories you've been told about the great battles that we fought in the past?" Gohan asked. Goten nodded eagerly; unlike most children, the youngest saiyan children loved to hear about the 'war stories' of their parent's pasts. "We had help when we fought Cell."

"I remember this story," Goten said almost indignantly. "The Trunks from the future, the Maria Trunks, and he came and he warned you and you were able to save daddy from the evil robots and from the man who ate all the robots." He felt proud of his rather succinct summarization of events and, so, when Gohan's response was to snort, hand over his mouth in amusement, the small boy felt a tinge of annoyance. "Hey! What's so funny?"

"Mirai," his older brother said mildly, lowering his hand. "Mirai Trunks. And… I suppose what you said is true," he said after a moment, though he seemed rather pained to make that admission. "To an extent. But we haven't really told you _everything_ that happened."

Goten's head quirked to the side, eyes widening in curiosity. "What else, what else happened?" he asked, hands gripping at the fabric of his comforter. "Are those people involved? Did daddy save them? Are they here to thank him?"

"More like… Daddy's thanking them," Gohan said after a moment. "I… was fighting Cell."

"Uh-huh. You were fighting him, cause Daddy trained you and he knew you were strong."

"… I know. But… but Cell was stronger than we could have possibly realized, and I wasn't winning." Here was where Goten became confused; this wasn't the version he had been told before. "I don't know how the fight would have turned out, maybe I would have won on my own, but they came before it was put to that. They were from the future as well, but one different from the Trunks you know about, and in their future they were ready to fight against Cell. They were ready to destroy him."

Goten gaped, eyes now wide and round as he stared up at his brother in awe. "They _were_?" he said in a hushed tone. Gohan smiled.

"They were. Just like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "It was amazing. Kind of frightening too, to be honest, but amazing."

"Wow." The young saiyan took a moment to think about that. All the stories he had heard about Cell and the androids had depicted them as ruthless, fearsome fighters – to imagine warriors who would be able to defeat them so easily meant that the warriors would have to possess tremendous strength. "So are they stronger than you?" he asked after a moment. "… stronger than _Dad_?"

Gohan clasped his hand to his chest in mock horror. "Let's not go overboard now," he said teasingly. "No one could ever be stronger than our father."

"That's right," Goten said solemnly. "Daddy's the strongest _ever_. He would have beaten Cell, even if they hadn't shown up."

"Hmm." Smilingly, the older of the two reached out and ruffled Goten's hair, much to the younger's displeasure. "You're probably right," Gohan said as he stood, watching as he brother futilely tried to flatten his hair. "But I think they're just a little… they're happy to see them, but I think they just want to make sure that everything's okay. They don't want you getting hurt."

Goten nodded at that, though it still confused him. As long as his father was around he would never be hurt; he knew Goku would never stand for anything bad to happen to him. And why would they come back from the future after saving everyone only to try to hurt them? It seemed to him that grown-ups were always going out of their way to make simple situations more complicated. "All right Gohan," he said cheerfully. "But what's going to happen with them? Are they going to stay here?"

"Well… Mom and Dad are working that out right now. I know they have a place to stay in the city and they seemed pretty reluctant to come out here, so I wouldn't get your hopes up."

----

"Of _course_ you're staying."

Mei glanced over at Trunks, a look of exasperation flickering briefly over her face as the man shrugged back at her. Despite Gohan's dire predictions, both Chi-Chi and Goku had quickly embraced the two future warriors. Almost _too_ quickly for their liking, both practically demanding that they stay with Sons 'just for now.' "After all," Chi-Chi continued, "Gohan told us about that apartment you're staying in. That's no place for anyone to live."

"Um, ma'am-"

"Chi-Chi."

Trunks blinked, feeling suddenly off-put. "… Chi-Chi. No offense, please understand we mean no offense, but we… _want_ to live on our own."

"You want to continue sleeping together you mean?" she asked sharply, while Goku blurted out something about wanting to use the time to be able to train with them. The violet-haired man's eyes widened as a blush nearly instantly spread over the bridge of his nose while Mei choked, hands reaching up to cover her mouth. Goku paused, glancing over at his disapproving wife. "Gohan told me about what he saw."

"What he _saw?_" Mei asked, hands slipping from her face. "We have a tiny one-room apartment – this doesn't mean we're sharing a bed!"

"But you two are sleeping in the same room together," she said, no less pleased. Both Mei and Trunks wished that something would happen to stop and save them from this line of questioning, like Goku's patented brand of cluelessness ( or so they had heard from Gohan ) or perhaps the earth opening up and swallowing both of them. "If you're not sleeping together-"

"We're not!" Both future fighters exclaimed loudly at the same time, unable to even look at each other or the Sons now.

"-Then you need to be living somewhere a little more sensible than the place you have now," she finished, hands on her hips as she slipped into full-on mothering mode. "And Trunks has family here now. There's no reason you should be avoiding them."

"… no, no, you're right." Color slowly fading from his cheeks, Trunks nodded and looked up at the woman. "We were just scared." Chi-Chi smiled warmly in response, more than understanding how intimidating it could be to go home to 'meet the family' – especially when you didn't exactly belong to that family to begin with. "If you think we should go now-"

"You just got here," Goku complained, reaching back to rub his neck. "You should stay, at least for lunch. My training session with Goten was interrupted; you could come along and show us how it's really done." His eyes lit up at the thought of that, causing the two to exchanged worried glances again. "We never did get to do any sparring the last time you arrived."

"And is that all you think about?" Chi-Chi scolded, smacking her husband lightly on the shoulder. "Think about where they come from; the last thing they want to do is spar." Goku winced, though it was obvious that he had barely felt the tap. It was more the words that had sunk in, causing him to feel a bit guilty at his rather selfish suggestion.

"No, it's okay actually," Mei said. "After defeating Cell… We'll stay for lunch, and then I think you should go meet your parents." That statement was directed at Trunks, who arched a brow and pointed at himself. "I'll stay here. I mean, I don't really have anywhere else to go and… from what we've heard of Vegeta's infamous temper I'm not sure I'm going to want to be there when he gets the surprise of his life."

"Oh, I could always call-" Chi-Chi started, but Trunks grinned and lifted a hand to interrupt her.

"Nah, I think I want to pop in on him unannounced. I mean, I only get to do this… well, all right, I guess this will be the second time but really it's not something I'll have the chance to do often. The look on his face…"

"Yeah, right before your face finds itself through a wall," Mei muttered, rolling her eyes. Turning her attention back to Chi-Chi and Goku, she smiled softly. "I hope you don't mind if I spend some time here. I can leave and go back to the apartment…" Her voice trailed off as Chi-Chi suddenly stepped over to her, arms wrapping the slightly-taller woman in a tight embrace. "… or not. That's another option too."

"Oh, don't _ever_ think you're unwelcome here," Chi-Chi said fiercely, releasing her and taking a step back. "I know that you've done so much for us already." Mei blinked, feeling something tighten in her chest as the older woman spoke so earnestly about her. "We would love it if you stayed here – I know Goten would be thrilled to be able to meet you and Gohan probably has a million questions he's been waiting to ask." There was a beat, and then: "And of course my husband would like to try to spar with you."

Mei laughed, feeling the tension break inside. "Then it would be my honor to stay with the Sons," she said lightly, head tilting for a slight bow. Too caught up in the moment, neither Chi-Chi nor Goku noticed the sudden look Trunks angled her, an expression of worry and distrust lining his face.


	6. This Is Halloween

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

Oh. I suppose I should include some sort of, like… disturbing imagery warning, shouldn't I?

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Mumei inhaled deeply, hands gripping the edge of the white porcelain sink tightly as she stared down into the empty basin. It was water-stained and cracked, slivers of black peeking through while meshing with the faded yellow and brown. It darkened into a ring surrounding the drain, a layer of dirt and waste that had been neglected over years of use and disuse.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Nails scrapped along the side of the bowl as she winced, leaning forward heavily to brace her weight on the plumbing. Her face twisted and she gasped, eyes squeezing shut as she bent over practically double. As the pain flared white-hot something black and oily coiled around her left wrist, oozing out from her own skin to spread up along the faded tattoos that spotted her arm. At every mark it stopped, the mark darkened as it seeped back into her skin before moving on.

For a moment her breath caught in her throat, the pain choking it back, but as it hit the peak and began to fade she let out a gasp, air coming in and out in short sputtered pants.

_Tick. Tick. _**_Tick. Tick. _**

The pain washed back out, allowed Mei to take a long, stuttered breath as she pushed herself up. More cracks had formed, tiny indents along the outside of the basin from where her fingers had dug into the bowl, and as she lifted her hands away white powdered porcelain flaked to the ground. There was a low snap as the cracks widened, red tendrils snaking out and slipping up along the side of the sink, but her eyes moved up as she rubbed her fingers together before twisting the faucets on. Cold water gurgled out and splashed over her hands, rinsing the remaining powder away.

**_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._**

She glanced up, eyes catching sight in the dirty mirror. Patches were black with age but she could still see her own reflection clearly; tired, sunken eyes set in contrast to pale skin. Sickly, weak, nervous, _scared_ – they all aptly described her appearance and Mei hated it. Scowling, she reached up and yanked the mirror open, fingers fumbling with the inside of the medicine cabinet for a small, yellow bottle. The cap caught and she snarled before ripping it off, sending white pills flying across the floor. Grabbing at a few that remained she swallowed them dry before slamming the door shut.

**_Tick. Tick._**

His eyes stared back at her and Mei froze. Mottled yellow and green bruises lined his right eye, circling a split cut to spread down his cheek bone. The rest of his skin was pale, a sickly yellow that was once tan, and another cut crossed the bridge of his nose, digging deep enough to reveal bone. The cartilage below that was smashed to the side and torn off, leaving a gaping hole above his mouth.

For a moment he simply stared, dead eyes glaring into the reflection of her frightened ones, but as the lights flickered his image snapped and pulsed. The dead man bared his teeth, a silent snarl issuing from him as he moved closer and she whirled around, back jamming up against the edge of the sink.

**_Tick._**

"_Gohan…"_

"Gohan!"

The word came out as a low gasp despite the emphasis put on it and Mei's eyes snapped open. She was lying on the couch in the living room of the Son family, not standing in a third-rate filthy dimly lit bathroom. In the next room she could hear Chi-Chi and Goku talking happily along with the several sounds (and smell) of dinner being prepared. Gohan – the one from here and now, not _her_ Gohan – was upstairs studying and, as she sat up and cautiously felt out for power signatures, she sensed that Goten was outside playing. Trunks was gone; he had left after lunch, like he had promised Chi-Chi he would.

Mei felt a stab of jealousy as she slowly blinked back sleep, waking fully. She knew he would be back soon – he didn't trust her well enough to leave her alone for too long – but the fact that he got to go home and be so open and _honest_ with _his_ family… _At least as honest as he can be_, she thought sourly, standing. It was burning inside of her, holding onto all the secrets, but there was no one she could trust, not now.

Not after what had happened.

Everything was normal now, a sense of calm surrounding the atmosphere of the Son household. It was what had lulled her to sleep to begin with, allowing her to doze off after Trunks had left. But she was up now and itching to move, itching to burn off some of the coiled energy that wrapped around under her skin. Maybe if she beat herself bloody she would be too exhausted to dream tonight.

Ideally, Gohan would make for the best sparring partner – he was roughly her age, only a year or so younger, and their power levels would be fairly equivalent. Unfortunately, even perfect worlds like this didn't run with what was and what wasn't ideal; the memories of her dream made her loathe when she would have to see the oldest Son child at dinner. Willingly engaging him in mock battle was out of the question.

Goku was next on her list of options, but when she glanced at him in the kitchen Mai immediately crossed the idea off. He looked so happy and so innocent with Chi-Chi that she shook her head, slipping out of the room and heading for the front door. While she knew that he was practically chomping at the bit with eagerness when it came to sparring with her, the whole idea felt a little too much like a 'corruption of the innocence'. _Two Sons down and one left…_

Goten.

As she gently opened the front door, careful to make no noise (though honestly, Goku was probably well aware of her movements), Mei had to admit that it was pretty much a tossup between who she wanted to see less – Goten or Gohan. The reasons for each were completely different, of course, but it didn't mean that it made it any more desirable. Sparring with a ghost or with a…?

"Mei!" The choice was made for her as she stepped outside and a pair of arms suddenly locked around her waist, causing her to take a staggered step back to keep her balance. Mumei looked down and smiled at the grinning half-saiyan. "Did you come out to watch me train?" There was an undisguised note of eagerness in his voice as he stepped back, eyes wide and bright as he kept his gaze trained up at her. "I'm getting real strong. Daddy says I am."

"I'm not here to watch you train," Mei said softly, reaching out to ruffle his unruly hair. Almost immediately his face fell so she continued on: "I was thinking of maybe sparring with you. Your dad mentioned that I had interrupted your training this morning so I figured it would only be fair…"

The look Goten gave her told her that, reservations or no reservations, she had made the right decision by deciding to see him. His eyes widened to the point that she thought they might just pop from his head all while his mouth slowly dropped down, awe written all over his face. "_Me?_" he asked, pointing to himself. "You want to train with _me_?" When she nodded the boy practically jumped up and down, grinning madly. "Yeah, yeah, just lemme go and ask Dad and Mom first."

Mumei nodded, hands shoved deep into her pockets as the boy darted into the house, a loud call of "Moooom!" echoing out. She smiled, head shaking at his, well, _childish_ antics. _Was I ever like that?_ she wondered, turning away from the house to glance up at the sky. It was late afternoon but the sun still shone brightly; fall had several more hours until night descended. _No… I don't think I ever had the chance._

Something tugged at her arm, pulling her hand from her pocket, and she glanced down to see a rambunctious Goten. "Mom said yes and then Dad said yes but that you had to spar with him tomorrow but then Mom smacked him and told him no and he said it was fine." This was all said in a rush of breath while he continued to pull at her, urging her along toward their training ground. Mei laughed, easily picturing the patriarch and matriarch of the family interacting in such a fashion. "Come on, come on, I wanna show you where Daddy takes me."

"All right, all right, show me," she said as she started after him. The boy smiled before energy flared up around him; he jumped up, hovering over the ground for a moment. Mei followed suit easily, one brow quirked, before lazily jetting ahead.

The flight lasted for only a minute or so as they skimmed the tops of the trees, weaving to and fro between the overgrown trunks and branches. Goten dipped down as the edge of the forest broke, revealing a wide open meadow-like expanse, a field carpeted with green grass and dotted with tiny wild flowers. Blinking in awe, Mei carefully pulled back on her own power, lowering down to land gracefully on the edge. "_This…_ This is where you train?"

"Uh-huh," Goten said, dropping down next to her. "It's big enough so that we have all the room we need and far enough away that we don't have to worry about accidentally hurting anyone."

"That's very smart of all of you," Mei said. "Safety's very important; not everyone is as strong as you. You need to be careful about that."

"Uh-huh!" He nodded before taking a few steps back. "Come on, come on!" The young boy slipped into a fighting stance, arms held at the ready as he waited for her to act.

"You just want to…? Just jump into it?" She gave him a doubtful look before glancing off at the fields. "I don't know," Mei said slowly, stepping toward; Goten lowered his guard, looking slightly disappointed and confused. "I think I should see you-"

Mumei cut herself off, twisting around to drive her knee into Goten's chest. It was a cheap trick – she was rather famous for them and Gohan and Trunks, _her_ Gohan and Trunks, knew better than to even take their eyes off of her once the 'fight' had begun. For a moment she felt bad for pulling it but he flipped back quickly, lunging toward her with one arm pulled back for a punch.

It connected with her forearm, sending vibrations of pain screaming through her left arm. Mei's eyes widened in surprise at Goten's strength and she danced to the side to dodge the well-aimed kick, slamming her own fist under his chin. The saiyan rebounded by flaring his ki and rising upward, lifting his arms up to take a hold of her hand before trying to spin around, an attempt to flip her; Mei drove her other fist into his stomach, using his grip on her to keep him held in place.

Her expectations for this play fight hadn't been much and the attitude that she was going to need to go easy to let Goten win was quickly being shattered by the violent blows they were rapidly exchanging. He wasn't at her level of strength or speed, but made up for it by switching in energy attacks when she landed a good blow that sent him flying away. Mei knew she needed to keep herself in check, that she didn't want to actually _hurt_ him, but the grin that was plastered on his face as he continued to block blow after blow made something scream inside of her.

Goten bounced back up after a kick that had sent him a good fifteen feet away and jumped forward, lunging at her. Mei snarled, sidestepping to let him slip by her before elbowing him in the back. A grunt of pain was heard as he started to collapse to the ground but she spun around, lifting her knee up to grind it into his stomach before clasping her hands together, lifting them high before jackhammering them into the youth's back. He slammed hard into the ground and she planted her boot at the base of his neck, energy building in the palm of her right hand as she glared down at him.

"Ah… okay, okay!" She blinked, head tilting to the side slightly as he called out a protest. "You win, I give!" Mei exhaled heavily, the energy immediately dissipating as she stumbled back, staring down in horror at what _almost_ was. _I'm everything she said I was,_ she thought, rubbing at her eyes. Goten wearily pushed himself up, rolling over to a sitting position as he continued on, voice dipping down into accusatory tones. "You fight _dirty._"

"Heh." Swallow past the knot in her throat, Mei smiled weakly before taking a step toward him. Goten eyed her suspicious but she just wearing thumped down next to him, sighing softly as she did. "Dirty tricks are something you're going to have to be prepared for. Enemies aren't going to play nice and wait for you to be ready."

"I know that!" he said defensively, expression verging on a pout. "But…"

"No, it's okay," she said softly, looking down. "You shouldn't be expected to be thinking like that. You're just a kid."

Goten frowned and staggered to his feet, taking her words as something offensive. "I'm not a kid," he exclaimed, crossing his arms and glaring down at the bemused female fighter. "I'm a saiyan! I'm a warrior! " His expression was so serious, so determined that Mumei tried to keep a straight face, tried to simply nod in response, but as he continued to stare so sternly at her she couldn't help but start to giggle. "It's not _funny!_ I'm gonna be a great fighter like Daddy someday!"

_A fighter._ Mei squeezed her eyes shut, the laughter dying down. _You don't need to be a fighter. You don't need to be stronger. You don't need to worry…_ "Oh, god…" she moaned, covering her face with her hands as the fit started. Trunks was always telling her that she was too emotional, especially after the _incident_, but it was getting harder to hold everything together inside the illusion of perfection.

Goten could only stare in worry and fear as she started to cry, shoulders shaking heavily from the force. It wasn't fair. Damnit, _it wasn't fair._ Everything in this life could have, should have been…

After a moment passed, a hand gingerly rested on her shoulder as Goten knelt down next to her, concern written over his face. "Mei?" he asked hesitantly and she sniffed, peering through her fingers to look at him. "Mei, did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no," she said, reaching one arm out to snake it around his waist. He moved closer to her willing, pressing up against her chest as she breathed in and out shakily. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just… overwhelmed. I'm sorry."

Goten nodded, head resting against her as he glanced up. "Why are you so sad now?" he asked. "Was it 'cause of our fight? I'm not hurt; you don't need to be sad about hurting me." He said it so innocently, so matter-of-factly that something twisted inside of her and she hiccupped. Mei smiled sadly down at him, using her free hand to wipe at her cheeks.

"If I tell you a secret Goten, will you promise not to tell anyone else?" At the prospect of knowing information that no one else would the child's eyes widened and he nodded. Mei exhaled deeply, glancing away from him. "… I'm scared. I'm scared of things you couldn't, and shouldn't, ever understand, and I know your parents-" Here she paused, swallowing heavily again before continuing slowly. "… I know they mean well, but it's not as simple as they think. Nothing's that simple… and I'm scared. I'm tired of being scared, and I'm scared of being tired."

Judging from his expression what she had said had gone over the young half-saiyan's head and Mei sighed softly. After a moment, though, he smiled again. "I'll protect you," he said simply and she gave a start. "Whatever you're scared of, I'll protect you."

Mei smiled wobbly before laughing at the absurdity of his sudden claim. "Goten… Thank you, Goten," she said after a moment and he practically beamed, overjoyed that he had been able to do something to help.

Nothing was that simple, though. Children oversimplified things into shades of black and white and forgot all about the grey that colored the world in-between.


	7. Our Solemn Hour

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

_

* * *

_

There was a saying he had heard once, that home was where the heart is. Another was that you can never go back, and yet a third was that home was where ever you made it. All three were good sayings, useful and trite little hallmark-worthy quotes that people could chirp back and forth as encouragements or advice for those with lonely hearts yearning for a place to find solace after a wearying stretch of time.

Of course, for any of those sayings to be applicable you would first need to have _had_ a home. What about the individual who was always wandering? The argument that would be made back would be that their home would lie with their friends, their family, with those they had found love. And if all three of those were torn away from their life…?

As the silver-domes of the Briefs' household began to fade into view, Trunks wondered why his mind was traveling down such a philosophical path. It was an easy escape from thinking of what he was about to face, though, and easier to think about that than the mess he quite possibly had left behind.

_Mumei._ A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth as he mused over her, slowly down his flight as the details of the buildings began to become clearer. _The great and powerful savior from the future…_

She was his friend, though. Was? _Is_. Right?

Pressing a hand to his temple, the violet-haired man shook his head in an attempt to force the stray thoughts from his mind as he touched down, running sneakers gently landing on the green grass outside the house. Trunks could sense someone with a weak level of energy inside, someone who obviously wasn't his dad and who wasn't (he hoped) his younger self. He frowned at that, concentrating for a moment to extend his net of awareness for any ki signatures in the nearby area – _nothing_.

_Little me could be at school,_ he thought – he would have to be what, eight now? Kids were supposed to be starting their education around them. Where Vegeta was, though, was his main concern. Unless his 'father' had up and abandoned the family during the past eight years Trunks couldn't imagine why he wouldn't be here. It made him feel more than a little uneasy; a missing Vegeta was like knowing there was a venomous snake loose in the house. Logically, the chances that it was going to sneak up on you and bite you were _slim_ but _damn_ if it got you…

Going up to the house, Trunks tapped on the door hesitantly. To his surprise it slid open after his fingers grazed it and he stared into a blindingly white entranceway. _Wha…? _He blinked before slowly poking his head in, glancing left and right to make sure no one was watching him, but when the doorway began to beep menacingly he hurriedly stepped inside, seconds before the door snapped shut behind his heel. _Okay, wow. Way too much money._

The house, in a word, was immaculate. And _loaded._ Just glancing at some of the paintings and the pottery that was balanced on the end table in the _entryway_ made him twitch and fight against the urge to grab and run; he was sure it would fetch a decent amount of zeni if he hocked it at a pawnshop. _And they probably wouldn't even notice it was gone,_ Trunks thought despairingly. _How can people __**live**__ like this?_

His fingers traced over the wall as he walked forward, eyes taking in every detail of the house. There was a large den-esq room to one side, followed by a hallway. Trunks was tempted to go down and use the chance to investigate everyone's rooms, but his curiosity didn't override the creeping sensation he got when he thought about invading his own parent's privacy. To the right was another large, open room lined with bookcases and a round table in the center and through it he could make out the outline of the fridge. A second temptation arose, this one involving raiding their pantry, but before he could step forward something hard jammed into the small of his back, causing him to freeze.

"Just who," a low female voice said, "the hell are _you?_"

_Really? I'm being held up by my mother…?_ Slowly raising his arms up, Trunks sighed. "M-… Bulma, shooting me isn't going to do much good," he said wearily.

"Getting one of these bullets in the base of your spine will do more damage than you think," she growled and his eyes widened. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that she had specially designed weapons just to ensure they would inflict maximum damage against his species.

"… touché. But you don't _want_ to damage me," he countered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break in – I didn't break in! I touched the door and it opened for me!"

"Bullshit," she spat out. "It's designed with our fingerprints and DNA. Only Vegeta, Trunks, and-"

There was an awkward silence as Trunks imagined Bulma digesting her own words. He knew he looked different, especially from the back, and that most of his hair was hidden because of the damn baseball cap, but _some_ of the purple was visible sticking out from the bottom. Moving his hands slowly up, he grasped the bill and pulled it upward, allowing her to see the vividly violet strands.

"… _Trunks?_" The pressure on his back disappeared and he sighed in relief before turning back to face her. She looked older than he remembered, worse for the wear here than in his own timeline; heavy bags were poorly hidden with makeup under her eyes and, as he peered closer, Trunks could make out strands of blue hair that didn't match. _Dye? _Worry flickered briefly across his face, but other than her exhausted facial appearance she seemed entirely fit and healthy.

Bulma stared up at him in wonder, blue eyes wide as she slowly lifted her hand to cup his face. Trunks smiled, pressing his own hand against her to hold it there before he spotted the shotgun held with ease in her right hand. _Oh, wow, she's packing heat now._ "Trunks, you came back," she said happily, stepping forward to embrace him in a tightly hug, gun banging into his side.

"Mmph, yeah, um…" Finding himself again in an awkward hug situation, Trunks put his hands on her shoulders before pushing her back. "Bulma, we've never actually met before," he said, causing her face to scrunch in confusion. "I am Trunks, from the future," he continued on. "But I'm not the Trunks you're thinking of."

There was one thing he had to give her credit for – Bulma Briefs was smart and she was adaptable. The news disturbed her for a moment and he watched as she started to raise the gun again before an expression of understanding dawned on her. "Oh. _Oh._ You're _that_ Trunks," she said, looking slightly uneasy but obviously willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He nodded, smiling sheepishly before running a hand back through his hand. "Either way, you're still my son aren't you?"

"Yeah…" The unease slipped away as she smiled warmly, reaching out to pat him on the arm. "Uh, _Mom_, what's with the, uh…?" Trunks gestured vaguely at the gun and Bulma glanced down.

"Oh, this?" She made a face before turning to head back down the hall – she must have been back in her room, hiding when she heard the door open. He followed suit, curious. "When you live surrounded by a bunch of humans and aliens who could crush your head with their fist you get uneasy after a point and start to figure out ways to fight back. Modern technology doesn't really match up with your fancy ki powers, but there aren't many things that can continue walking after a shotgun blast to the head."

As she pushed opened a door that was cracked at the end of the hall, Bulma added: "Even _Vegeta _hasn't seen inside this room. You're pretty lucky."

Lucky wasn't exactly a word Trunks would have ever used to describe himself, though when he stepped inside after her so many things about himself were suddenly explained.

One wall was lined with monitors hooked up to various computers, each displaying a different read-out and casting a glow of LCD light into the room. That was the _far_ wall; the wall adjacent and to the right was a mini-arsenal, lined with shotguns, pistols, machetes, something that looked suspiciously like a set of throwing knives, and, upon closer examination, a _machine gun_.

Plus a leather bound book, salt, the tools to make shotgun bullets, a cast-iron poker, and a vial of holy water.

"Uh… _wow,_" was all he could really get out as he reached for a dagger he _swore _was made of silver. Its handle had an intricate design of two intertwined dragons and, as Trunks lifted it from the wall, he could feel that it was crafted perfectly; it had just the right amount of weight in its hilt for precision cuts. "Mom," he started, turning to face her. "Why do you hav-"

He was cut off when she splashed something on him, his face now dripping. Trunks paused, licking his lips before rolling his eyes. "Holy water. _Cute._"

"Can never be too sure," she responded, lowering the flask. "And you're holding silver, so I'm going to say you're _not_ a shifter." Trunks blinked, wondering just what the petite ocean-haired housewife was doing to be able to reference a monster like a shifter so casually. He and Mumei had the bad luck of running into one once; it had been a literal nightmare. "But, apparently, you know a little something about this. Kind of unusual, for a fighter."

"I could say the same thing about a genius like you," he said, flipping the dagger around before placing it back on the wall. "Where, when I come from, you know nothing about this. To be honest I'm rather new at this myself. How come…?"

Bulma smiled humorlessly before hanging the shotgun back up. "I think I have you to thank for that," she said flatly before pulling a chair out. Trunks looked at her questioningly before doing the same, feeling that this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Before the androids, before you two came back in time… the most I had to worry about was that a psychopathic killer from earth, or from another planet, would decide they would want the Dragon Balls or our world or universal domination or… something along those lines. Fights that never really included me. But after you two came and saved the day things started to get strange."

"Flickering lights, cold spots, and sulfur?" Trunks guessed. Bulma seemed to think about that slowly, nodded grimly after a moment.

"Ye-_es_, but it didn't start off that way. It was more like someone, or something was watching us. I brushed it off as a case of bad paranoia and I didn't pay attention to any of the signs… I didn't _know_ they were signs, but we were being monitored. But…" Bulma paused, worrying her lower lip.

"Something… tried to go after my son one day. Something that lived in his closet. Vegeta never believed me because I could never _prove_ to him that something was there. There was no energy for him to read because every time it happened it seemed to shield itself from ki powers. After a while I began to suspect that I was maybe just imagining it until it… started turning from something that was lurking on the sidelines into something that…"

"I think I'm starting to understand." Violet-eyes closed as a sickening feeling washed into his stomach. This wasn't an outcome they had expected, they never would have come back if they had _known_… _Did Gohan know this would happen? He must have been counting on us not returning…_ "Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry… How did you even…?" Trunks blinked his eyes open, a new-found respect rising in him for Bulma Briefs. "I mean, this is all pretty much a select knowledge base pastime. How'd you learn about it?"

"I'm a genius billionaire. It didn't exactly seem… believable when I started reading up about it, and I don't think I still entirely understand, but I learned. I know enough to be able to protect myself and my family from whatever it is that's trying to get in."

The programmed door suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Bulma leaned forward, expression hardening. "Trunks, why did you come back?" she asked. "You know what's going on, don't you? That's why you came back." He nodded slowly, looking away from her. "Tell me! I've spent years in the dark terrified that shadows were going to rip my son's throat out. My son, someone who's strong enough to bend steel, and yet when he comes to me at night and tells me he's scared because he thinks there might be a monster under his bed I'm scared to let him return to his room."

"Mom…"

"What? You can't tell me because you're going to change time?" He blanched as if she had slapped him and she laughed harshly. "Stop the self-serving platitudes and _tell me what you did._"

Trunks swallowed hard, eyes trained to the floor. "… Mom, I didn't come back alone. Mumei came with me. And… and Mom, there's something… I need to tell you about her…"


	8. Deliver Us From Evil

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

* * *

"School?"

Mei's nose wrinkled at the word and she glanced up over the bowl of cereal at a beaming Chi-Chi. The woman nodded enthusiastically, wiping her hands dry on the front of her dress before pulling a chair out across from the human fighter to take a seat. "Yes, school," she said happily. "Bulma called last night; apparently everything just went so well with Trunks that she started thinking about what you two were going to do in the future."

"Huh." Dark eyes blinked in bemusement as Chi-Chi prattled on.

"Well, we were talking and you both are obviously able to take care of yourselves but you have family now-" Mei's brows shot up, disappearing in her hairline as she suddenly choked on a spoonful of milk; Chi-Chi waved dismissively at her. "Maybe you don't have _biological _family but you'll certainly always have a place to stay. Anyway, it seemed that what you two need is an education."

"Really." The word came out far more bluntly than she really intended, but Mei found the entire conversation ridiculous. It went unnoticed, however, as Chi-Chi nodded and smiled warmly at her.

"She talked it over with Trunks. Both of you are around Gohan's age so it wouldn't be hard for you to fit in. I'm sure both of you are smart enough to be able to catch up and it's not like you need to take the _same_ classes but it would be good for both of you." Mei blinked, staring blankly at the cheerful woman. "Oh, both of you need to do something with your lives instead of just training to get stronger. It'll be good for you."

"… school," was all Mei could repeat feebly. No, not just school – _college_, really. "I, uh, appreciate the offer, but how could we possibly even...? I mean, we'd have to apply and hope we somehow pass the entrance exams and then there's the matter of cost…"

"Bulma will take care of all of that."

"… right." Any hope she had at worming her way out of the situation was destroyed with the sentence; _Bulma_, the heiress to the _Capsule Corporation_, was going to make sure they somehow found their way back into the education system. Mumei doubted there was anything she couldn't accomplish with her money. "I… I'm so… nonplussed," she finally got out, unsure how to react. "When is this supposed to start…?"

"Tomorrow!"

"Oh for the love of-" Mei caught herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as she exhaled sharply. At this the older woman finally took notice, her bubbling demeanor diffusing some as she stared surprised at her. "Chi-Chi, I say this with as much kindness as I can muster, but are you…" The sight of her expression caused her to back off for a moment, switching to a kinder word. "… serious? I mean, you'd need… proof that we live here, which we don't. And we probably know jackshit about history and current events and… Chi-Chi, this just seems like a really _bad idea._"

For a moment the Son mother regarded her in cool silence. Mumei bit her lower lip and stared down, pointedly avoiding the other's gaze as a loud grinding noise filled the room. Shoving her chair back, Chi-Chi stood and glared down at her, arms cross. "A bad idea?" she said, voice rising in pitch. Immediately the younger winced, knowing that this wasn't going to end well for her. "So, you just want to end up like all those other lazy fighters, sitting around and surviving off of the goodness of our hearts and wallets while you do nothing more than train-"

"No, that's not what we want to do at all!" Mei protested, something which seemed to give Chi-Chi only more fuel.

"Oh, so you just want to sit around and do _nothing_?" she demanded. Mumei sighed, rubbing at her temples. _I should have learned better than to try to argue with her by now,_ she thought wryly. "At least if you were training I could think you were trying to stay _useful_ but now you feel that you can just come back to our time and-"

"We'll go to school," she said wearily. It was like someone flipped a switch; nearly instantaneously Chi-Chi went from overbearing mothering mode back to being overjoyed, a wide smile nearly splitting her face in two. "I think we're going to need some 'back to school' shopping, though. Neither one of us really… _packed_ for that."

Mumei had gone back to the apartment to bring her sparse wardrobe back to the Son's. Two pairs of jeans (one of which was the tattered and blood-stained monochrome pair she had worn on her first jump), three shirts, and a change of underwear. Not really what was needed to start any sort of career around people. Trunks wasn't any better off in the department either.

"I know. Bulma cleared her schedule so that she could take you two out shopping and to smooth over all the details regarding your 'transfer', and then tonight both of you and the Briefs are going to come over here for dinner."

Everything was planned out so neat and simple that Mei wanted to be sick. She smiled weakly in response, her appetite for the soggy and warming cereal all but gone, and nodded slowly in response. "That's wonderful. So… when will they be here?"

"Within the hour," Chi-Chi responded before picking up the dirty bowl and carrying it to the sink.

Mei was about to make an escape, a dash upstairs to hide until they arrive, but a sudden thought struck her as she was in the process of standing. "… Gohan goes to school," she said slowly. "Does Trunks, little Trunks, does he?"

"Mmhmm. Bulma's sending him to the best elementary school in the area. Well, second best," she amended, pausing in the task of wiping the cereal bowl clean. "He was already kicked out of the first one."

"… so why isn't Goten in school?"

Mei immediately regretted asking the question – _it wasn't her place._ Chi-Chi seemed vaguely disturbed by it, her motions slowly as her eyes glazed over in thought. Using the sudden silence between them to her advantage, the future female ducked outside, leaving the mother alone with her thoughts.

-----

"So…"

"So?"

"So."

Trunks sighed, fingers grazing along the rows of teen's shirts. Mei trailed behind him, head cocked slightly to the side as she eyed him curiously while waiting for the response he didn't have. What was there to say, really? The truth was the obvious answer, but he wasn't looking forward to being on the receiving end of any sort of meltdown, especially not in some sort of public venue.

"So what happened?" Mei finally pressed before glancing at the clothing racks. She reached out, grabbing a dark blue shirt with a two white streaks across the chest, holding it up in front of herself. He grimaced, lips drawn back to bare his teeth, and she rolled her eyes. "I don't see _you_ picking out anything," she retorted before shoving the shirt back.

"That's because there's nothing good here," he said. "It's all… who would wear clothing like this?"

"Normal people?" she guessed. "What Candy Floss, do you want more fishnets and lace? Cause I think there's a store around here that sells that but I'm pretty sure the rest of the 'family' will judge you for that."

"No, I don't- Damnit Mumei," Trunks grumbled, ripping the shirt off of its hangar on the rack. "This shirt is fine. It's boring, but fine. And nothing happened. Went through the inquisition with Bulma and Vegeta and Trunks is fascinated with me but other than that everything was perfectly normal."

"Really?" He sighed before staring hard at her.

"Yes! Why, what do you think happened?"

Mei met Trunks' gaze and stared back for a moment before looking down. "… I think we need to go," she said after a moment. "School, really? I mean, I thought we were supposed to be staying under the radar and this…" He winced, looking away, and she glanced up before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Trunks, I dreamed… but I don't think it was a dream. I _saw_ him and he saw me and… I think we need to go."

There was panic in her eyes and he swallowed hard. "Him?" he repeated, causing her to nod rapidly. "You mean, Go-"

"_Yes,_" Mei hissed, the grip on Trunks' shoulder tightening. "Please, why are we even bothering with this? You spent the night with the _Briefs;_ weren't you able to find out what we needed to? Can't we just ditch them and go back into hiding?"

"I…" He glanced down and a wave of revulsion washed over the purple-haired man as he realized that Mei was touching him with her left arm. He resisted the urge to shrug away from her and glanced down. "Mei, I… I don't think we can just run off. I think that our problems are a little bit bigger than we first realized." Gently lifting his own hand up, Trunks placed it over hers and smiled tightly. "Listen… you have to listen, okay? Don't go running scared."

She nodded slowly. "W-what? Trunks, I don't understand…"

"Mei… Mei, I told Bulma."

In retrospect Trunks realized that he was lucky that the only thing broken was his shoulder; Mumei's hand crunched shut, crushing his clavicle. An earsplitting wail filled the air and after a moment he realized, much to his chagrined, that he was keening from pain, knees wobbling and buckling. Something flared behind her eyes, pools of pure black, and suddenly his vision was obscured by a myriad of reds, blues, and greens. A metal pole was hooked awkwardly under his good arm, keeping him upright in the clothing rack, and with a groan of pain the purple-haired man extracted himself from the shirts as the dark-haired woman fled.

-----

_She knows. He told her – she _**_knows!_**

A feeling worse than panic was setting in, making it hard – _impossible_ – to breath and the woman was gasping for every breath, fighting with her own body for the air she needed. She tore blindly down open pathways in the mall, searching along the walls for some sort of escape from the building.

_They're all going to know now. _Her left arm was burning and she stumbled, bumping into an elderly lady. Mei stepped back, hand pressed to her forehead as her actions were greeted with frowns and murmurs of disapproval. "Well I _never_," the lady sniffed. "Such a _rude_ young lady."

"'Scuse me," she blurted out, shoving past her again. Her hand, her left, brushed the woman's arm and Mei was suddenly overcome with the urge to twist her head off. It would take such little effort, just a snap and a pop, and the woman would no longer be sneering at her like some half-breed rat.

"There's no excuse for _you,_" the woman said, clutching at her handbag. The ladies around her tittered and Mei stepped back, feeling a nervous sweat starting to break out. "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? You should at least know not to talk back to your elders."

It was nearly uncontrollable and she moaned, clutching at her arm. Under her grip Mumei could feel something pulsing and slithering along her skin, burning her hand, and before she could be chastised again she blurted out some excuse before bolting down a hallway. She nearly bowled over a frightened young man before shoving a door open at the end, running into the lady's restroom.

_They all know!_ The thought echoed ceaselessly in her mind, drowning out the sounds of the chattering whispers. A surreal sense of déjà-vu washed over her as she slugged forward, ignoring the stares of the worried women as she gripped the sides of the sink tightly to stare down into the basin. They glanced and edged around her, the door banging shut loudly to leave her alone with her thoughts. _They know. They all know. They hate me. They want to _**_kill_**_ me… _

It was strange to think that only hours before she was worried about having to go to school; such a stupid, laughable concern. This was here, this was now, and she was on her own because _he_ betrayed her without even so much as a second thought. Everything they ever had, everything they had ever done, it all meant nothing now that the mark was standing between.

Mei exhaled heavily, her breath still frozen in her lungs, and stared as it puffed out in front of her. A whine escaped her throat as she slowly glanced up; the mirror was icing over and cracking from the sudden change in temperature. One hand – her _right_ – slowly reached up, trembling as the fingertips grazed across the surface, but she snatched it back and whirled away without wiping it clean.

She was standing there, all dead eyes and grey skin with patches of decay tossed in for good measure. Mei stumbled back, body playing a game of limbo with the sink serving at the pole as a sickly hand swiped the air she had previously inhabited. A moment passed before she scrambled to the side, the air growing heavy and cold from her presence. Static, a flicker, and she snarled from in front, blue-grey haze obscuring her vision.

Stretch. Snap. Mei _pulled_, ripping through her, and for a moment she could feel her heart stopping, the terrified thumping falling silent for a moment as she slammed the bathroom door open. It was too bright in the hallway, the fluorescents casting an aura over everything, but the woman turned after her, the ice crackling along the edge of the door and seeping out from under it. She couldn't wait for her own body to start back up before racing for the exit, eyesight slowly fading to black while the light became ever bright, sunlight etched with blue trimmed with cotton candy white.

Mei exhaled and pushed, running free.


	9. That's Not My Name

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

* * *

An eager female hand clamped down over his arm as the teacher called out that partners were needed for their next assignment. Trunks rolled his eyes but smiled cheerfully when the blond prattled on about how he _needed_ to work with her, he was so much smarter and better at school and she just absolutely needed his help and maybe they could even work on it together after school? It was amazing; only eight years old and already the charm was being laid on so thick. Only for him, one Trunks Briefs, billionaire extraordinaire.

"Sure thing Kana," he said with a flash of a smile and she squealed with joy. He allowed her to tug him out of his seat, pencil and notepad in hand (there was no way she was even close to strong enough to be actually dragging him around), and together they walked over to a round table where another blond girl and a brown-haired boy with glasses were sitting. Yuzu and Masuta, though he didn't really pay attention to his classmates names. They never came over after school or anything like that – what would they do? Sit around awkwardly while his father glared at them menacingly? At least with Goten he didn't have to worry about accidentally breaking something while roughhousing.

Well, breaking something in _Goten_, at least.

Masuta looked up gratefully, obviously relieved that he was no longer the lone boy at the table. Trunks acknowledged him with a slight nod before slipping into one of the thin plastic chairs. After the first week he learned to carefully lean back; unlike the chairs at home, the ones at school weren't special designed with a saiyan's abuse in mind. If the teacher hadn't seen it happen during class he was sure he would have had detention for a week, but it had still been bad enough sitting and having the back snap off in the middle of class.

"So what should our project be on?" Yuzu said. The question, though said to everyone at the table, was directed solely toward Kana. Light blond and dark blond; it was the only way Trunks was going to be able to remember them (and separate them in his head). Dark blond – Kana – nodded as she sat down, hand still clutching his arm rather possessively.

"Well, Miss Tsakata said that it should be…"

Glancing over at Masuta, Trunks tuned the girls out while giving him a little shrug before starting to doodle on his paper. He was only there for appearance, after all. To be honest, he hadn't even bothered to listen to what the teacher had babbled on about when informing them of what their assignment was going to be, knowing full well that some girl was going to be more than eager to take charge of it for him. A little lazy, and a lot manipulative, but he had better things to do than spend his time with his nose pinned between the pages of a book.

"… sounds good. And she's fine with us being a group of three, right?"

His focus had been drifting in and out as the doodle on the page grew exponentially larger ( a little stick-figure saiyan with an energy ball in his hands standing over a pile of fallen foes and his teachers said he didn't show _creativity_ his class ) but when Light Blond said that Trunks' attention snapped back to reality. It took him a moment to cycle back through the conversation he hadn't really processed to grasp what they were talking about, but he _knew_ that they had mentioned being in a group of three. That was _definitively _wrong; Masuta was sitting just across the table, smiling that same 'no one's ever going to pay attention to me' smile he always had.

"The three of us?" he asked, confused. Dark Blond smiled at him, patting his arm while giving Light Blond a look that said 'isn't he cute when he tries to be assertive?' If looks could kill there would be one less patronizing female in the world, but Trunks could only settle for an annoyed role of the eyes. "What about Masuta?"

Here was where they both exchanged a worried glanced, Light Blond slowly drawing her brow together. They were kids, they were still in elementary school, but whatever he had just said had crossed some line; some inherent nature inside both of them was gently guiding them both along the same path of response. Cautious, careful, gentle – _he doesn't understand._ "Trunks," Dark Blond started, and he snorted. She winced and looked away. Light Blond seemed to snap, face twisting into an ugly snarl.

"Just because your mom is some super rich hussy doesn't mean you can act like a jerk to everyone here," she spat out. Trunks' temper flared up and the pencil held in his hand snapped as it clenched shut, eyes boring holes into the face of the young girl as he fought to keep from lunging at her and snapping her neck. "Maybe _you_ weren't raised with manners but most people consider it impolite to go around insulting dead people!"

She couldn't have done a better job stunning him if she had managed to score a hit to his gut. It felt like all the air was knocked out of him as Trunks exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes widening slightly, and his gaze turned wildly toward the wounded blond before aiming at Masuta.

The shy boy smiled apologetically at him again, edges suddenly flickering and bending as another image was superimposed, snarling and screaming through pale skin rot-mottled and a mouth that was sewn shut and torn open. One hand clawed at the table, broken and bloodied and dripping invisible smoke that hissed as it pooled, the other gripping the edge tightly to hold him in place.

Trunks jumped back, chair flipping over and jamming him in the knees before clattering on the floor. The noise cut through the level of chatter in the classroom and all eyes were suddenly pointed at him, though he couldn't care less. Both girls were now looking confused, though the angry indignation that Light Blond had was slow to fade, and the twisted Masuta monster was growling from across the table, one eye burning black while the other pleaded for him to run.

A hand gently touched his shoulder and he glanced up to see the concerned face of Miss Tsakuta. "Is there a problem here?" she asked. He nodded rapidly before either girl could answer and made a vague gesture toward his stomach.

"I… I'm not feeling well," he lied, and she smiled, and he tried to find a wobbly one somewhere but the thing was still there, it was disappearing like every other time he had caught sight of the things his mother had warned him about. Miss Tsakuta ushered him from the room but the feeling of unease wouldn't slip away as easily.

-----

A shopping bag in each hand, Bulma Briefs stepped out of department store to look around the mainway of the mall. Trunks and Mumei weren't supposed to take _that_ long looking for clothing and, from the lackluster expressions they both had given her at the idea of the trip, it didn't seem like either one was particularly thrilled to be shopping to begin with. Easy in, easy out; so what was taking so long?

It was impossible for her to separate paranoia from intuition anymore and both were gnawing at the pit of her stomach. "… and such a rude young lady!" she heard someone murmur, a lady reaching her golden years, and intuition was winning the race. The urge to drop her bags and run was setting in, but public was where she needed to keep up the persona of a calm and collected individual. After all, she was _the_ Bulma Briefs. It wouldn't do if people knew she slept with a cross tucked under her pillow.

It was at the sight of the police officer that she broke. There was nothing valuable, nothing _breakable_ inside either bag and they both landed with a 'crunch' of the paper, crumpling in on themselves and folding to the sides as she took off. A crowd was gathering in the area she had left them and she pushed and elbowed her way through, the worst possible scenarios running vividly through her mind.

"Excuse me, I need to- Trunks!" Bulma pushed her way inside the circle and stared. Her future son was being helped up by an officer, pain etched in his expression as he held his right arm awkwardly. Blood was staining the fabric of his shirt, a stain spreading out from his shoulder, and he seemed to be making every attempt to not move it. "Trunks, what happened?"

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to need you to step back." Without pausing she reached into her pocket and pulled out a Capsule Corporation ID badge. The clack of his jaw snapping shut was audible and she stalked past him to kneel by her injured future son.

"What happened?" she asked again and he just shook his head.

"Mei," he started, and Bulma winced. "I… I tried to tell her that you were safe, but she… broke my shoulder instead."

"Trunks!" She needed a better word, a better way to express her shock and dismay, as he only grinned in response.

"I know, _I know._ I don't think she's dangerous right now, but sending Goku or Vegeta after her would be your best bet." Translation: Handle with extreme caution.

Bulma nodded before stepping back. The cops swarmed the injured man, helping him to his feet and leading him away. As they slipped through the crowd she pulled her phone out, hitting redial. "… yes, Daddy? Tell the lawyer that he needs to be finished within the hour… and tell Vegeta that I need to talk to him right away. It's important."

There was a pause as she was about to hang out but the voice on the other line started talking. A peculiar look crossed the blue-haired woman's face and, with a voice tinged with panic, confusion, and anger, she ground out: "... What happened at Trunks' school today?"

-----

Mumei was running on fumes, her body begging for the break she wouldn't give. She needed food, she needed rest, she needed someone who _wouldn't fucking judge her_, how about that for a goddamned change? It wasn't her fault, she was tired of being held accountable for things she had no part in. Even _Trunks_ wouldn't, couldn't look at her the same; everything had ended between them that day though they both refused to talk about it. He because he didn't want to acknowledge that anything had ever happened, she because she didn't want to acknowledge that it had ended.

Head down, hands in pockets, she paced the streets of Orange City. Hiding wasn't a problem; her energy reading would be a blip on their radar. But it felt like hiding was all she ever did, ever since they had stepped out of the capsule just a little over a year ago and into their twisted world. _Maybe I should just go crawl into a hole somewhere and wait until I do die,_ she thought bitterly, her mouth trying to smile and only managing a sneer.

"Hey, sorry- whoa, hey!" Someone brushed into her, bumping her back to the side, and Mumei whirled about to stare up into Gohan Son's eyes with panic. Confusion set in almost immediately but the half-saiyan laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, interrupting her thoughts with his nervous speech. "Ha, what a funny coincidence, bumping into you twice in two days in the same part of town…" She cocked a brow, amusement displacing all other emotions. "… Please don't tell my mom I'm here."

"Why _are_ you here?" Mei asked softly, the smile she had attempted early finally managing to work. He grinned and shrugged.

"Every class was just a lecture on material I already knew. And then we hit gym and this guy just wouldn't stop getting on my case and I… might have tried to show off a little too much but I think I just irritated this one girl instead." She laughed lowly and he smiled. "So what are you doing here? I thought Mom and Goten would be running you ragged all day. And where's Trunks?"

"… Trunks is with Bulma, and I… just needed a little time away," Mei said. It was close enough to the truth. Gohan nodded before stepping back, one hand lifting in a wave.

"Oh, sorry. I'll leave you alone then. Just don't tell mom, please?" he asked again. For a moment she stood frozen, watching as he turned and stepped away in slow motion, and then everything rebounded back and she reached out without thinking, trying to grab a hold of someone he was not.

"No, no, wait, Gohan," she said, gripping his arm tightly. _Too_ tightly; he winced and she could see the flesh turning white under her nails but she didn't care. "Are you hungry?" A rhetorical question. "I, I mean, maybe we could go get lunch together…"

Too much of her weakness seeped into her voice and she felt naked under his gaze but she was too desperate to try and pull the walls back up now. He looked concerned before her hand slipped away and he smiled gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Okay, we can get lunch."

He led her around town, to a small hole-in-the-wall that, supposedly, served the world's best pizza. It was quiet, it was secluded, and it had fast service and was used to the unnatural appetites of the Son family, Gohan assured her as they stepped inside. The owner, an oddly sickly thin man with a reedy face, greeted him quite happily and shook her hand enthusiastically as well before showing them to their seats. Well. The tip was probably impressive.

"So what's on your mind?" Mei glanced up, eyes wide with confusion and Gohan made a slight face at her. "You can't slip something like that by me. You're upset. Do you want to talk about it or…?"

There was a thought. Everyone was always saying that talking about something was the best way to get it off your chest. "… I don't know," she admitted, swallowing hard. "I'm not sure if I should be… telling you anything. I mean, the whole past/future time paradox interference rule…"

"But you both have already made the decision to make the rest of your life here. How much of a life can you really have if you can't trust anyone?"

She nodded and inhaled, a tiny laugh bubbling up at the comment. "You sound so much like him," Mei said, and Gohan only looked confused for a second. "He was… amazing. I loved him so much."

"… did something happen to… Future Gohan?"

"… when we came back, he… he didn't send us back, not the second time. While we were gone, he had…" She paused and swallowing, running through her words carefully. "He had died. That was why, is why we came back. We had nothing else to live for anymore."

Gohan nodded and waved when the waitress came over to take their order. _Five more minutes._ "So he really meant a lot to you." The laugh turned into a choking hiccup and Mei held a hand to her mouth to try to soften any other strange noise that was strangled from her throat.

"A lot really doesn't cover it. He was… everything to me. There's… there's something I need to tell you about… he was-"

Goku probably wasn't the best role model for Gohan in a lot of respects. Sure, he was a good man, but he knew so little about the real world, about education, and about _women_ that it was shocking Gohan could walk and talk with ordinary people without having some sort of breakdown. So, in retrospect, Mei understood how he got confused by what she was saying, but the way he handled it was absolutely appalling.

"He was-" Something warm and wet was suddenly pressed up against her mouth and Mei was breathing in eau de Gohan with his face shoved up against hers. She grimaced and yanked herself back, thumping against the back of the booth while frantically wiping at her mouth. "Augh, what the _hell_?"

"I, I…" He paled, though in a moment she could tell he would be a stunning shade of red. "I mean, weren't you…? I thought that… you were upset!"

"So you wanted to comfort me with your _tongue?!_"

"No! But you were saying that you and the other me, and I've always…" Now she was the one who was paling and something twisted deep in her stomach.

"Oh, no, _no_. Gohan…" It was on the tip of her tongue, it was _right there_, and nothing else would smooth this situation over, but her gut was screaming for her to stay silent. He looked expectedly as she sat there, lips pulled back in a grimace as she mouthed the words in an attempt to make voicing them easier. "… Gohan… I'm not who I've been saying I am."

"… what."

"What I was trying to tell you was that the other Gohan, the one in the future, we were so close because…" And now she was burning red, one hand covering the bridge of her nose as she forced herself to continue. He was staring at her like she had suddenly transformed into an incredibly interesting insect and that's all she felt like. "… Gohan, I'm… your baby sister.

"I'm Goten. From the future."


	10. Ice Coffin

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

* * *

"Damnit woman, I am _not_ your personal messenger boy!"

A flare of energy crackled through the air as Vegeta let out a growl of frustration. With a sudden twist, he thrust his arm out to the wall, a pulse running through it before a small ki blast shot out and impacted the metal, causing it to shudder as it was absorbed. It was immature, it was childish, it was _beneath_ him, but the saiyan Prince felt a sense of calm wash over him as the moment passed. Smoke cleared and the wall was fine, though singed from the heat of the energy ball.

Pansy Briefs stood next to him, her cool demeanor unfazed by the sudden outburst. The smile that was always gracing her lips was still there as she nodded sympathetically, blue eyes filled to the brim with sickeningly sweet understanding. "I know Vegeta," she said, "but Bulma said it was urgent."

"Bulma can run her own errands."

"But she had to go to Trunks' school to pick him up."

Vegeta tensed again, whipping about to glare at her furiously. She met his gaze and smiled back, used to these snap changes in mood after all the years spent with the full-blooded saiyan. "Why would that woman need to pick my son up?" he asked slowly, putting extra emphasis on the words 'woman' and 'my'. "I thought we gave him firm instructions to behave himself at school."

"Yes, but the school nurse called and said he was feeling ill. Something about causing a disrupting in class and then complaining about stomach pains."

He frowned at that and crossed his arms. "Well then, why aren't _you_ running the errand for her? She is your daughter," Vegeta pointed out, deflecting the conversation from his son for the moment. It wouldn't do to show concern over such things in front of others. Pansy's smile, if it was possible, widened.

"I would, but I need to go down to the hospital to pick up your other son."

"My other-? Just what in the hell were they out doing?!" Bulma had told him of her ridiculous plan to take Trunks – the future Trunks – and the woman Mumei out 'shopping' so that they were prepared to return to 'school'. He had snorted and pretended to ignore her; it was the best way to let things like this slide by without getting him involved. How such a mundane and dull task could possibly result in one being sent to an _infirmary…_

"Well, she was in a bit of a hurry and didn't really have time to explain, but I think she said something about Mei." Pansy pressed a finger to her lips, the smile disappearing for a moment as she looked rather contemplative. "I think that's why you need to go find her."

The 'errand' was suddenly making more sense. Everyone else had such a blind hero's worship for the girl that they wouldn't regard her with the amount of distrust that was obviously necessary. Why anyone trusted her to begin with was beyond him; she appeared without any reasonable explanation for her fighting ability and was incredibly reluctant to give any real details about her past, save that she had been found and trained, somehow, by his son and Kakarrot's. Since neither his son nor the half-bred runt had ever showed particular skill in leading or working well with others, no part of the story ever added up for him. "Hmph. I will go perform this task for her, then," he said gruffly, arms crossed as he stalked out of the Gravity Room.

Pansy smiled again as he left, though this time there was a definite mischievous edge to it. The demure and quiet housewife would _never_ let on to it, but she knew just what to say and how to act to manipulate the volatile saiyan into doing what she needed him to do. It was easy when you knew what buttons to push.

-----

"What… what do you mean, you're…?" Gohan gestured vaguely at Mei – _Goten?_ – and stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I mean, how is that even possible? He's a boy, and you're a… a… you _are_ a…"

"Yes I'm a girl," she snapped, hand slamming down on the table as she glared at him. He winced and she sighed, lifting it back up to rub at the space between her eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be… I know you have questions."

"How is it possible? Gohan, genetics aren't exactly predetermined. It's always a random shuffle, random chance of what you're going to get from your mom and what you get from your dad. You always get an X from mommy, but half the time you get an X from dad or a Y. And the thing is also that what you get from him is also affected by the state your mom's health. I think it's some sort of evolutionary survival thing, though I never had too much time to read into it. But basically… Random chance that in my timeline I was born with the working parts I have and not the way your little brother is."

Gohan stared, the information that had just been poured down his throat causing a bit of a mental block. "… So you're just… you're Goten," he repeated, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "Why did you…? I mean, why did you try to hide it from us? The fake name and story?"

"I didn't want to interfere with Goten's birth, so I just pretended I was someone else. Trunks and I had worked out my backstory before hand so we both would be on the same page when asked."

"Okay, but when you came back the second time-"

"You never really gave me a chance to go 'Oh, surprise, it's me!'" Mei let out a heavy sigh. "I mean, I honestly expected that you would take one look at me and just realize that wait, hold on, she looks fucking _familiar_ and not in the whole 'oh she saved the day all those years ago' sort of way, but you didn't. And then you said those few little words, your 'little brother Goten', and I knew that everything was fucked. There was no way I was telling you then. Except…"

Gohan wanted to ask her what had happened to push her over the edge, to make her so upset that she broke after _one day_. That was the absurd part; she hadn't even been here for that long and already her 'vow' was cracked to hell but he didn't see her as being weak. Maybe it was just because he was _Gohan_, he was her brother, and after spending a year accepting that he was dead coming back to face him was more than she could handle.

He wanted to ask her, but the sudden shrieks from outside interrupted their conversation. They both craned their necks, glancing out the window, and police cars raced by, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Mei was up in a flash, a stunned waitress shoved into an empty booth as she ran for the door, and he followed suit. Whatever was happening couldn't have been _that_ severe – there were no energy signatures, none that were anything close to being remarkable, and the civilian task force was already heading to the scene of the crime. Of course they needed to check it out, but it was going to end up being nothing more than a petty criminal trying to hold up another bank or a purse snatcher or a mugging or _something_ that would be laughable for either of them.

-----

The hospital room was quiet and Trunks sighed as he tried to relax. Next to him the clock radio was flashing 1:37 and he couldn't keep his eyes off the slowing ticking numbers. It was obsessive and compulsive and the time dragged on slower and slower, but with every passing minute he was closer to someone coming to take him 'home'.

His shoulder still throbbed painfully; the doctors said he was lucky no nerve damage was done but surgery was a must, definitively, what had _happened,_ they had never heard of someone being able to do something like this. He had smiled and nodded and all the forms were signed but he knew he would be gone long before they finished scheduling the operating room. He wasn't going under the knife. He wasn't going to be knocked out and put to sleep and trust someone he didn't know to cut into him and put him back together and sew him up and just hope that everything turned out okay. The pain, he could live with the pain if there was no other way to take care of it. But surgery wasn't an option.

Trunks closed his eyes, breathing out slowly as the room shifted and spun. It had been a fight getting the IV line in, a fight over the medication dosage, a fight that had nearly resulted with him strapped down to the bed. It wouldn't have done much good, Mrs. Briefs had known that ( though she had managed to remain amazingly calm when the nurse had pressed down on his shoulder the wrong way and he had snarled, all animal instincts and pain crazy ), but he needed to play nice and normal out in public. And the public thought that a shattered shoulder deserved a shitload of painkillers. A shitload of painkillers that had been subsequently spat out and burned out of his body with a ki flare, leaving him alert and pain-riddled.

_So why do I feel so disconnected?_

Footsteps sounded distressingly loudly in the room and he blinked his eyes open. Twisting to the side, he clawed out with one hand to grasp at the clock. 2:13. He grimaced and allowed it to slip from his hands, clattering loudly on the bedside table, and struggled to sit up in the hospital bed.

"Mr. Briefs, you should be _resting._" A nurse scolded him, stepping up to the side of his bed to check and change his IV line. He glanced over at her and she caught his gaze, smiling back. Red hair, blue eyes, and barely a waif of a girl. Why did he feel like he had just been caught in the spider's web? "You're not going anywhere for quite some time. Just lie back down."

"Where's the doctor?" She ignored him, moving around the bed and out of sight. For a moment he breathed easy, eyes starting to slip shut again, when a rush of something cold and metallic burned into veins. All ability to move was slowly robbed from him, fingers, hands, and arms lying uselessly on the bed as it spread across his torso and through the rest of him.

Something crackled and ripped and he could _feel_ his arm being pulled to the side, though there was no pain when his shoulder was torqued out of position. Trunks glanced over and watched, feeling strangely detached, as the nurse strapped his wrist to the bed, humming softly as she did so. "I need to go." The words came out slurred and heavy. He frowned, head rolling to the side, and she smiled wider before reaching out to stroke his cheek. Nails scrapped against his skin, rubbing him raw, but he stared up at her, eyes bleak with defiance. "I'm _going_," he said again, forcing each word out.

"Yes you are," she agreed, slipping about to the other side to secure his other wrist. Something fluttered above him, tickling his exposed flesh, and he realized that she was spreading out a blanket to cover up the restraints. After a moment she reached back up, hand resting on his cheek while the other wound about the IV line, yanking hard. The bag ripped, clear liquid splashing and staining her white coat, but he was suddenly unattached. "You're leaving Trunks," she said slowly, and fear bloomed in his stomach her eyes pooled red. "And you're coming with me."

A whine escaped him as she wheeled him out of the room, picture perfect pair of patient and nurse. He could barely move, limbs filled with lead and mind frozen with terror. Doctors and orderlies passed them in the hall, smiling and waving and his eyes pleaded for someone to notice, but she gave everyone such a sweet look and nod and they didn't even glance down to check on him.

The elevator doors chimed softly before sliding open and the bed bounced when she pushed him in, turning so that she was pressed back against the wall. "We're going to have fun now, aren't we Trunks?" she said, glancing down and smiling and he wanted to scream for _someone_ notice he was missing before the doors slid shut and he was gone.

-----

"Gohan, be careful."

Mei wasn't sure why she was warning him – he certainly gave her an exasperated roll of the eyes as the words spilled out of her mouth. It was her own twisted and malformed mind that kept on allowing the ghosts and ghouls to creep around the corners and claw at the fringes of reality. Whatever it was they were chasing after wasn't some horrible monster out of a storybook nightmare.

A man was standing in the street, hand stretched out and wrapped out the neck of a panicking woman. Her hands were wrapped around his wrist, nails drawing blood as she tried desperately to get away. As they neared, Mumei saw that they weren't the only ones to respond to the screams; a few police cars were pulling up, though the officers seemed unsure what to do.

"Mei, can you go super saiyan?" Gohan whispered, pulling on her sleeve and yanking her back. She glanced sharply at him before shaking her head. "Look, then I'll just deal with this. It's better that they-"

"Let her go!"

Both of them froze. A third cruiser pulled up and out stepped a girl with black pigtails, black shorts and a white t-shirt. Gohan paled and Mei looked at him curiously while he mouthed a word silently. _Videl._ If that was her name, she seemed to be part of the police force and someone whom the officers respected and were glad to see. She didn't know her, or of her, in her own time but that wasn't surprising. "Friend of yours?"

"Friend isn't the word I would use…"

The woman's struggles increased as the man tightened his hold, lifting her up off the ground. The pig-tailed girl slipped into a fighting stance, arms held at the ready as she stood behind him, and the hairs on Mei's arms rose as she _felt_ him grin. "You want her?" he sneered, and she felt like someone had punched her with the sound of his voice. "Then _catch._"

The street had fallen silent and the sudden 'crack' carried nicely as he twisted his hand, snapping her neck. Pig-tails made a choking noise and he turned about, tossing the body effortlessly toward her. It landed in a heap on a ground and she covered her mouth, gagging, and Mei stepped forward, running alongside Gohan to stop the fear-frozen woman before she did something she would regret.

Mei was going to confront the man. Gohan was going to help the woman.

Behind her, she heard Gohan saying something to the girl, words about how 'it was all right', 'it was going to be okay', 'they were here to help now'. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him holding her, arms wrapped gently around her thin frame to keep her upright while she trembled at the violence. Part of her mourned for the girl, cried out at the innocence that had so cruelly been ripped away, but a far angrier part laughed and hissed at the weakness that the girl showed. She was foolish to come, foolish to think she was a _fighter_ if she couldn't handle this.

"I knew I would find you here." Deep. Grating. His voice vibrated unnaturally and she shuddered, mouth stretched wide to stop the gag reflex. Death had not been kind to him and it showed with the crude stitching over his nose and cheek to hold his face together, the skin surrounding it a vibrant purple fading into gray. It was pulled thin down over his neck, translucent and streaked with blue-green veins, and edging the black shirt was the start of a black tattoo. _Her_ marking. "Little bitch ran off to hide again. So fucking _typical._"

"Why are you doing this?" Her words came out weak and she cringed while he laughed. "Please… I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't know…"

"Oh, baby sister," he purred, and she could _feel_ Gohan's heart skip at those words. "It doesn't matter what you didn't know. You're going to pay in blood just the same."


	11. Get Inside

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

Much thanks goes to Mirai Veggie for volunteering to look this over before it saw the light of day. I can only imagine the horrors she had to suffer while slogging through this to make it readable for you fine folks.

* * *

She strode purposefully down the halls of the building, heels clicking smartly against the dirty linoleum floor. The walk to the nurse's office was a familiar one, a path that Bulma Briefs had unfortunately gone down during her son's short schooling career. Trunks was not a child that played well with others, and Trunks was a child who was more than smart enough to work the illness angle.

She was his mother; she knew well enough the signs of a child who was trying to worm his way out of a temper tantrum with a conveniently timed headache. What she had heard over the phone was a child who was near the point of panic from the things that were supposed to stay in the dark, she had always _promised_ him they would stay in the dark, but now they were creeping about the edges of his classroom, taunting and laughing at every move he made.

She was prim and proper and completely professional, blue hair in a neat bun with just the right number of strands falling free to coyly frame her face. It drew attention away from the crows feet that danced around the corners of her eyes and the cigarette stains that were starting to appear, tracing the space between her gums and her teeth. A silly little habit that grew into an addiction after hours spent cramped in the back of a car, gun balanced in her lap with eyes too bright from caffeine and nicotine while watching for the monsters that crept out of the shadows. After all, she was _Bulma Briefs_ damnit, and it was all appearances, appearances, appearances.

The door clicked and swung open and he looked up, eyes wide as he hugged himself tightly, perched on the edge of the clothed-covered plastic bed. A 'mom' was torn from his lips as the tiny purple-haired demi-saiyan hopped down, arms looping around her midsection in a crushing hug. She 'oomped' and ruffled his hair, smiling down before looking at up the disapproving nurse. "He didn't cause any trouble today, did he?"

"No. He had an outburst in class but claimed it was because of the 'stomach pain' the seemed to evaporate the moment he heard you were coming to pick him up." The nurse, a rather no-nonsense lady with a bad case of morning breath, put one hand on her hip and cocked her head in a _what can you do?_ fashion. Bulma nodded and Trunks smiled guiltily, still clinging tightly to her.

"Well, don't think you're going home to sit in front of the TV and eat junk food all day," she scolded gently. Extracting herself from her son, she smiled wanly at the nurse before signing the forms to take her son home. "If I had known raising a child was going to be _this_ much trouble," she started. The nurse rolled her eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Military school. It's the only way to go," the nurse said, voice deadpan and serious.

Bulma blinked and smiled nervously at the nurse while subtly pushing Trunks back. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, nodding and stepping back quickly, clutching his hand tightly before hurrying from the room.

There was a taunt silence between mother and son as they hurried from the school, bag bouncing against Trunks' side; he had to walk faster to keep up, his strides shorter than Bulma's. Every few seconds were punctuated with nervous glances up and an anxious 'huh' as he bit his lip, desperate to speak his part, but she tightened her grip and shook her head, signaling for him to stay silent. No. He could explain soon enough, but now was not the time.

"Mom," he started once they were outside. She was fumbling with the capsule for the car, unsnapping it and tossing it to the ground. "Mom, I didn't do _anything_-"

There was a 'pop' and the capsule expanded into a small hovercar, the domed windshield sliding back to allow both of them to get in. Bulma released Trunks' hand and smiled, leaning down to press a finger to his lips. "I believe you," she said, and relief was visible in his eyes. "Things have been pretty strange today. The other you warned me, but I didn't believe him as much as I should have."

"The other me?" Trunks said, eyes widening slightly in awe. "He's like you mom?"

_Like me_, she thought wryly, feeling a bit twisted at how _proud_ her son was to utter those words. It was a secret between them what she did at night, the things she studied and practiced in the dark while Vegeta went off to train. Trunks was following in his father's footsteps but only because she refused to allow him to follow in her own; knowing that he did both in the future would only increase his attempts to convince her that he was old enough to face whatever it was that she hunted alone.

Though maybe today would be enough to deter him from asking anytime in the near future.

"Yeah, he's like me," she said softly, and his face split into a grin. "Now come on. You can tell me what happened on the way home." Straightening, Bulma turned to get into the vehicle when Trunks grabbed her shirtsleeve, tugging rapidly to get her attention again. "… yes?"

"… you're going to send me away to military school, aren't you?"

-----

Gohan Son was not having a good day.

It was a bit hard to pinpoint the exact _moment_ he had realized that the day was going to end up being one of those miserable ones that you shoved in the back of your mind and tried to never remember except in moments when you wanted to simply torture yourself. Fumbling over his words when trying to speak to Videl Satan in class was _a_ moment, but admitting his seven-year-long crush to Mumei after _kissing_ her only to find out she was his _sister_ definitely topped it.

Coming face-to-face with the future version of himself, though, only to discover that he was A: dead and apparently a zombie, B: some sort of crazy murderer, and C: out to kill his sister, was the big crowning 'fuck you!' of all of them. It was like Kami wasn't even _trying_ to pretend he wasn't just fucking with his life for the sake of fucking with it.

"What the fuck? What the _fuck_?" Videl mumbled, twisting about in his arms. He really agreed with her eloquent assessment of the situation, but Gohan couldn't bring himself to voice such words just _yet_. "He just, he just killed someone, and what the hell, what is _wrong with his face?_"

Gohan clearly remembered her being a far sterner girl earlier that day. It irked him slightly just how rapidly she was falling apart after seeing just one person get their necked snapped, and irked him that he was hardly bothered as well. Different worlds, really, and his was just a brutal and ruthless ball of suck.

"Videl," he whispered, and she stiffened. "Calm down. I'm not going to let anything bad happened to you." After a moment she nodded curtly and glanced back, neck craning to see him.

"Gohan? You're… you're out here?"

The shock was laid thick in her tone and he smiled softly, his hold relaxing to allow her to slip free. She was still wild-eyed with fear and her body was strung taunt, but the sound of a familiar voice had calmed her enough so that she wasn't prone to darting haphazardly into the midst of the battlefield. "Yeah. Just stay here, okay?" She nodded slowly, brow knitting in confusion, and he stepped away to focus on the decaying doppelganger leering at his distressed sister.

_Fuck_ his life.

"Gohan…" Mei inhaled deeply, something catching in her throat. He glanced over at her and the one stepping toward her grinned; _who are you talking to?_ "Please, we can… We can find another way…"

It was just a _guess_ but he was going to hazard that it was the _other_ Gohan. He grinned, a toothy smile stained black that caused Videl to groan behind him. "Another _way_? We are so far _beyond_ finding other ways, Goten. We're into the action stage sweetie and I'm planning on taking a whooper of an action."

_Oh, man… am I really going to end up like this guy?_ Gohan thought idly as the Mei seemed set on edge. The future version of himself lifted a hand and she gasped, eyes widening, before bringing her arms up in an attempt to brace herself. It was odd that she had no sort of defense beyond that, odd that no ki signature flickered from the other Gohan (though the androids, 17 and 18, they had left no signature trail and they also hadn't been part of the land of the living; he assumed it was the same thing) and as a strange black web snapped out along the ground, ripping through the concrete in a wave, Gohan brought his own hands up to form an energy shield to blanket Videl and himself from the brunt of the impact.

Or, well, he _would _have if he could have reached his ki. The shield crackled for a moment before vanishing, leaving both of them wide open. _Oh…_ "Videl, _run!_"

It slammed into his chest and jaw, razor sharp and biting as it lifted him up and sent him back, colliding with the waiting police cruisers. He landed sprawled, arms tangled in the dented and damaged door, and groaned through the blood that leaked from his mouth. There was a definite gash from his lip to his chin and he winced when he touched it, spitting up another mouthful of spit and blood before climbing to his feet. "What the… hell…?"

"You can't rely on ki." Videl had rolled to the side, one pig-tail now lopsided from a close encounter with the razor-thread, and Mei had – he didn't know _what_ she had done but the front of her shirt was torn to shreds, the bottom nothing more than tattered rags, with no sign of any bodily injury. She glanced back, giving him a nod to get the hell_ gone_ as the other Gohan grinned, mouth twisted farther than any humans could. "Though I'm guessing you probably already figured that out. Takes a big bite out of your game though, doesn't it?" he spat out, air slowly darkening around him.

Gohan worked his jaw carefully, hissing as it cracked with every movement, and glanced back. Two of the cars were sliced through and one cop was dead, torso cut clean. The others were running scared, abandoning their posts after having seen that much death. He really couldn't blame them.

"Ah. So." Talking hurt. Ten to one odds put his jaw at being dislocated; the click and grind he heard and felt with every movement could _not_ have been healthy. Still, Gohan grinned as he readied himself again, this time his body prepared without the unnecessary reliance on the energy force. "What exactly are you? Some sort of anti-ki repellant demon?"

The twisted Gohan contemplated that before shrugging. "In a word: yes."

Snarling suddenly, he lunged forward. Mei intercepted, knee driving into his stomach and fist connecting with his jaw. He grabbed her, right hand clamping over her left arm, and something dark spread out to eat through the cloth that covered it. It burned away, pieces falling to the ground in a rain of ash, and she spun around to slam her elbow back into his gut. "Gohan! Get her out of here!" A hand covered her mouth before she could finished what she was shouting and she was lifted off her feet, a strangled squeal choked from her as her legs kicked air. He bent back, lifting her as high as he could before slamming her to the side and against the pavement.

There was an audible 'crack' as she connected with the ground but she rolled and bounced back up, hands sliding up the length of her legs as she did. He stepped to the side, movements awkward as he stalked her, but when he jerked forward again she slashed out and Gohan could see the glint of a knife cutting through fabric and the decayed flesh on the zombified Gohan's chest. It hissed on contact and the damaged flesh smoldered, though he otherwise seemed unaffected.

Ki powers or not, Gohan was _still_ highly trained in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat and was _still_ stronger than most humans would ever dream of being. Mei was fast and was all brute force, dancing and dodging while stabbing out to catch the demon with a lucky slash, but she was burning out too fast to keep it up for long and dead people, it seemed, had no need for energy.

Ignoring her instructions, he tried to sneak up behind the evil version of himself, hoping to catch him and hold him and maybe stop him long enough to allow her to somehow _kill_ him. The knife seemed to do a good job at that, smoking with every stab, and a good thrust through where his heart _should_ be would do the trick. Gohan hoped. Or else he would be fresh out of options and they would, officially, be up a creak with no paddle.

Dead Gohan had better senses than Living Gohan expected, though, and twisted about before he had a chance to get close enough to close the distance. Leering, he reached out and grabbed his shoulders and Gohan reacted with instinct, head slamming forward. It was like head butting a brick wall and his teeth vibrated from the action, but the other man staggered right into a knife to the back.

He gaped and Mei snarled, twisting it deep before yanking it out the side. For a moment the Future version of Gohan stood before collapsing, hand twitching and fingers scrapping against the asphalt. Without pausing to even re-sheath the knife she grabbed Gohan's hand, breathing out a 'let's go' and dragging him along.

"Wha, wait," he forced out, pulling his hand free. She turned to stare at Gohan, filled with an urgency he didn't understand (hadn't they just _killed_ the Big Bad?) as he crouched next to Videl, hand slipped under her arm to help her to her feet. She mumbled something under her breath, words along the line of 'impossible', 'nightmare', and '_murderer_', but at least she was functioning and hadn't slipped into a state of catatonia.

Yet.

Arm slipped around her, Gohan helped carry Videl away from the rubble and over the wreckage of the police cruisers; Mei was standing on the other side to help the girl down, an expression of impatient fear stamped on her face. As her arm was extended up he could see that there was a tattoo on the inside of her left arm, something that had been hidden before by the clothing she always wore; a black eye surrounded by a circle of thorns with vines extending out in four directions, wrapping around her arm and running up its length. _What the hell…?_

Something shifted behind him and he glanced back to see the 'dead' Gohan stirring, a hand reaching back to grab at the gaping flesh wound that was already sewing shut - _literally_. The same black thread that had sliced through the asphalt was pulling out of his body to bind his flesh together, repairing all the damage they had done. The panic that Mei had been feeling was finally transferred over and he jumped the cars, knees voicing a loud complaint as they absorb the impact. Videl gibbered something next to him and he grabbed her roughly, hauling her into his arms as he ran forward, Mei keeping pace beside him, and in a moment they were twin streaks in the sky, leaving the dead version of himself on the ground to stare up as they disappeared into the distance.


	12. Hooch

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

This chapter has yet to be beta'd, so I apologize for its crappiness. Also, please check out my profile for update information.

* * *

Goku hadn't gotten Bulma's call; he was still out with Goten, working with his son to improve his basic form and to teach him to pull his power _in _instead of tossing it around carelessly and haphazardly. He was completely unaware that something had just crawled its way out of the depths of Hell, spreading its stench over the land as it oozed into every pore and crevice it could find. He was ignorant and naïve and clueless, going about his day as if nothing terrible had just happened.

He was aware, though, of the sudden spike in Gohan's power. Braking in mid-air, he grabbed at the back of Goten's gi to halt him mid-lunge. The boy squirmed about for a moment before sensing the sudden shift in energy levels as well. He relaxed and hung loose, dangling in his father's grip before Goku released him, allowing him to float free. "D-dad?" Goten stuttered, turning to face him. "What…?"

"Go back home, Goten," Goku said, eyes focusing into the distance. "Stay with your mother until I get you."

"But-"

"Now, Goten!" The small child stumbled back in the air, frightened by the wave of power that suddenly flooded from his father. He floated back and nodded before spiraling back to the small cabin. Goku watched long enough to make sure that his son was listening to his orders before pressing two fingers to his forehead, flickering in the air a moment before cutting out completely.

-----

A blur cut between the two and Gohan and Mei came to screeching halts mid-air, white-hot energy waves cooling and dissipating as they hovered in place for a moment. "Friend of yours?" Gohan asked, mimicking Mei from earlier. She shot him a less-than-amused look, lip curling, and shook her head.

"None of my friends are going to be that _fun_, unfortunately."

"Ah. And here I was thinking this would be _easy_." Videl had passed out in his arms, the shock of flight compounded with the horrific sights causing her to slip into unconsciousness. It was easier that way, really; no screaming or squirming or fussing over where they were going, and no demands for an explanation that no one could give. Well, mostly no one – Mei probably had a decent idea, though she was still being infuriatingly tight-lipped about the entire situation.

Shifting his arms and focusing, Gohan blinked in surprise as he recognized the energy from the blur. "Wait, that was… Vegeta?"

-----

Mumei's energy signature was barely distinguishable from the rest of the pitiful humans that populated the planet. Vegeta knew, roughly, that she was somewhere in the vicinity of Orange City, but considering the mall Bulma had taken the twin troubles to earlier in the morning was located there it wasn't much of a surprise. It left him with the rather tedious task of heading to the city and searching by foot ( Bulma would have his _head_ if he was caught, again, flying where the public could see – the police reports were beginning to become a hassle ) for her distinct energy trail.

Gohan, and his erratic panicked flare, was none of his concern. That it came from the same direction he was heading toward was slightly suspicious and, were Vegeta to be a more careful and wary individual, he would have taken the time to hunt him out and see what was causing him to act so carelessly. As it was, the saiyan prince deemed himself _above_ such matters; the Son brat wasn't _his_ child. Whatever he was running from in such a hurry was probably nothing more than an embarrassing faux-pas at school or an accidental show of his power.

When Gohan finally zoomed past him, energy leaking out of every crack in his defense, Vegeta finally took notice and spun about, slowly and drifting for a moment on his back. He wasn't alone – in his arms was a limp girl, an unconscious human with an unusually high power level. Hovering next to him was another female, a distressed looking dark-haired woman who looked like she had just gone through a meat grinder ( mostly her clothing did; Gohan did too, with all the blood covering his chin and chest ).

Huh. Wait. _Mei._ It took a moment to do an about-face in midair but it helped that they both were holding still, exchanging nervous quips as they waited uneasily for him. Flexing his power, Vegeta lazily floated back over, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the explanation to come.

It would. He wouldn't have to say _anything_ and they would be babbling like idiots.

"There's… there's an explanation," the girl started, and immediately Gohan shot her a dirty look, arms curling protectively about the unconscious figure in his arms. "I promise you, there _is_ one, but right now isn't really the _time_-"

"Oh _really_ Mei?" Gohan snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. "You really have an explanation that's going to make sense of why a zombified version of myself just wasted two innocent bystanders, made it so I wasn't able to use any of my ki, and then stitched himself back together after you tore him a new one?" His voice rose, cracking from stress, and she grimaced nervously while Vegeta blinked, feeling off-put and off-guard by the impassioned rant. "This I'm _dying_ to here – oh, wait, apparently I already _did!_"

"… okay, okay," she said after a moment, swallowing and motioning with her hands for him to _calm down_. "Look, that wasn't _my fault_. I didn't tell him to do what he did."

"You know, I would find this a lot easier to believe if you hadn't decided to keep the little bit of information that you were my _sister_ to yourself-"

Pure rage bloomed over Mei's face and Vegeta stared in awe as she clenched a fist, visibly fighting with herself to keep from tackling Gohan mid-air and sending them both spiraling to the ground, helpless girl be damned. "Oh yeah, let's just go _flinging_ that bit of knowledge all over the _winds_, why don't we," she spat, teeth grinding together. "You think maybe _this_ was the reason I was so reluctant to tell you in the first place? Don't blame me because you had some weird misplaced Oedipidal Complex for me!"

The fight between the two was starting to get good – fury that only saiyan blood could produce was pumping through both their veins ( apparently, though Vegeta was a bit dubious about her claims of being sister to Kakarot's brat ) – but 'better judgment' encouraged him to slip in between the two to end their bickering. Grabbing her arm and the front of Gohan's shirt, he twisted both and yanked forward. "Will _both_ of you stop this incessant whining," he snapped, shoving them back with far more force than was necessary. "Explain. _Now._"

"She," Gohan said, pulling an arm out from under the still-unconscious girl to point accusingly at Mei. "She is _not_ who she said she was. She is Goten from the future and they came _back_ from the future because _I died_ but apparently I _came back_ as an _evil fucking zombie_ intent on killing everyone. Is that a fair summation of events?"

Mei gaped for a moment, pointing at herself before looking guiltily at Vegeta. "That's… that's kind of true… I mean, nothing he said is _un_true…" Vegeta glowered at her, causing her to shrink back in on herself. "We didn't know he would follow us! We didn't know he _could_ follow us! There was only one time machine!"

"Enough!" he roared, causing both teens to wince. The slumbering one stirred, eyes fluttering open to stare blearily at the hovering saiyan before her. For a moment she gazed at him, their gaze meeting as she stared blankly, and then she sank back into oblivion. "Both of you, go back home. _Now_," he added when they simultaneously opened their mouths to complain. "I will _deal_ with whatever it is you two could not handle. You will wait for me to address this… issue afterwards. Is that _understood?_"

Gohan nodded and Mei frantically shook her head. "What? No! Are you insane? You have _no idea_ what you're getting yourself into!" He stared at her coldly, arms crossing over his chest.

"Whatever this being in," Vegeta said in a clipped down, "someone of _my_ lineage will be more than enough to handle it." Mei stared, too stunned to make any response beyond a strangled sort of yelp. He smirked and shoved back, jetting toward the city and leaving them staring at his wake.

-----

Falling to pieces was annoying, and if he had known that this was going to be a side-effect to his little _wish_ he never would have bothered going through with it in the first place. _God knew_ the little bitch was ungrateful – she was certainly making quite a fuss about going through with her end of the deal. So what if she had 'never agreed to it'; a contract was a contract and _someone_ needed to fulfill. Step up to the plate and take one for the team already and stop with the fucking _whining_.

Really, it was _beyond_ old and nothing more than _grating_ at this point. Just _shut_ the _fuck up_.

The black energy finished threaded through the damaged skin, pulling it taunt as it cut away to leave it good as new. Well, if bruised and rotting and see-through grey was your definition of _good_ or _new_, but it didn't really matter; it had been a long time since he had felt physical pain. They had ripped that from him, slowly but surely, the moment he had signed away for _her_ life.

Not that Gohan was _bitter_ about it or anything.

Picking himself up slowly, he scanned the area and scowled. All the _fun_ had disappeared after they had appeared, giving the useless cows time to collect their wits and run off like the scared cattle that they were. The screaming woman certainly had been a fun distraction, and he had been hoping to play with the terrified girl who had thought herself a local hero, but _no_. "You always have to interfere with everything I do, don't you," he spat out, black-dark blood splattering to the ground from crooked and broken teeth.

The air turned sharp and crisp about him, ripe with untapped potential. Dying had cost him quite a few senses and a few abilities, but _hell_ if he hadn't picked up a few tricks as trade. That he was unable to tap into the Ki stream had been a huge blow, but the realization that he was so warped that no one surrounding him could either more than balanced it out. It meant he couldn't track people based on their energy, but he could use others way. Like their _life energy_.

Gohan growled and smiled, turning about to face the empty air. A moment passed and then, in the distance, a figure flickered into being. Tall, dark hair, orange clothing – memories were a hazy, elusive beast that played tricks on him, especially after all the years spent _down there_, but he knew who he was. That was not a figure he could _ever_ forget, not after what he had _done_.

"Father," he ground out, mouth curling.

The tall man started and Gohan grinned as he stalked closer, broken body shifting and cracking with every step. "G-Gohan?" he stuttered out, eyes blinking wide as he took a step back. Something flared in the air and the grin grew wider, stretching the limits of his jaw, as the realization that he couldn't just fly away now settled in. "What… what happened to you?"

"What do you _mean_?" he asked back in mock confusion before looking down. "Oh, _kami_! What ever has _happened _to me!" Goku gaped, confused, and Gohan smiled cruelly back, sarcasm laced with every word. "Won't you _help me_ father?"

"Stay _away_ from him Kakarrot." _That_ voice was annoyingly familiar, one he hadn't heard in years and, frankly, had hoped to never hear again. Gohan could still remember when Cell had kill Trunks' father and could remember holding the small child as Bulma wept with grief, the infant squirming and wailing in his arms. Even then something was cracked inside of him; he had felt empty, hollow, and relieved that he was standing there mourning instead of being mourned over. "That thing is not your son."

"And a big freakin' hello to you too Vegeta," Gohan muttered back, glancing to see the sullen prince. "Let me guess, my slut of a sister told you? She never was very good at keeping her mouth shut… or her legs. Hey, did I tell you about th-"

Ki powers or not, saiyans were _fast_ and were _strong_ sons-of-bitches. A fist impacted with the side of his face, sending him skidding across the pavement, and before Gohan could correct himself Vegeta's foot connected with his stomach. The building he slammed into crumbled, windows imploding as the support beams bent and buckled, and a steel girder rammed its way through his chest.

Annoying? Yes. Painful? No.

Gripping the end ( slippery and black-coated with sour blood ), Gohan lifted his head from the cracked mortar and sneered at the two saiyan warriors. "So this is the game we're going to play," he said slowly, pulling hard. There was a tug and a pop as it wrenched free, sliding loose from his chest as he stood from the broken building. Ribbons of puss, sickly green and yellow against the black of his shirt, bled out and dripped down. "I can't say I'm _surprised_, but maybe a little disappointed… I thought you would have been smarter."

Neither saiyan flinched at that comment – if anything, Goku's expression darkened, body taunt with untapped power. Gohan smirked back and gave a flick of his fingers, a 'come-hither' gesture complete with the suggestive hip thrust and eyebrow roll.

_And who ever said you couldn't enjoy family reunions? _

-----

Videl awoke abruptly when the flight ended and Gohan dumped her on the ratty couch shoved up against the far wall of the Son's living room. Broken springs stabbed her in the spine, causing tiny pin-pricks of pain with every shift in position. Sitting up slowly, the frightened girl glanced around the room, trying to gather herself enough to rationally deal with the situation.

Rationally, _yes,_ so a few people died. So that one guy had gotten cleaved in two, guts spilling out like rotted fruit onto the hood of his cruiser, lights flashing purple and red through the smears of blood. So that lady had her necked snap like a twig, body tossed like so much worthless garbage to crumple on the ground, head and neck bent back to expose the oh-so-white of her bones. She, _she_ was Videl _Satan_, daughter of the man who had _saved the world_. She was a Hero.

She was going to deal with this, even if it meant balling every emotion up and shoving it into a tiny dark corner to sort through later. Breakdowns were not a luxury of the battlefield.

Standing, Videl rested a hand against the wall and waited a moment. Gohan had been there, Gohan had pulled her away from that _man_ ( the man who _looked_ like Gohan, looked like a Gohan who had gone through a meat grinder ), and through an open doorway she could hear his voice, rising and falling in a fevered pitch. He seemed to be arguing almost violently with someone and in a flash she remembered seeing the other girl, lithe and dark and just as broken as the monster.

"We should be back out there, we should be helping them!"

"They'll be crawling back here soon enough just like we did. Just shut up unless you want to tear something _else_."

"I'll be fine, I've had worse." Videl pressed back against the wall and peeked into the room. Gohan was sitting in a kitchen chair, ice-pack pressed up against the bloodied mess that was his face while the girl paced the length of the room, a phone held in her hand. A younger boy, looking similar to Gohan, was standing next to his chair, fingers tightly wound in the fabric of his shirt. As if on cue: "Goten, where's mom?"

"I don't know," the boy said, head shaking slightly. "Dad sent me home to stay with her but she wasn't here when I got back. I don't know where she would have gone though."

The woman growled, slamming the phone onto the counter, and flicked her gaze over to the doorway. "You can stop standing there watching us and come out now," she snapped, and Videl gulped before edging into the room. Gohan blanched and looked away as the woman eyed her coolly. "Gonna break down again? Not that you really chose to get dragged into this but-"

"I'm fine," Videl interrupted, voice more heated than she intended. "… I'm fine. I just wasn't expected what happened earlier," she said, voice lower now. The woman snorted and stepped closer, invading the imaginarily defined personal bubble.

"No one expects shit like that to happen. How you deal with the unexpected is what defines you."

Before she could feel too offended Gohan suddenly spoke up. "Mei," he growled, ice pack lowered for a moment. "Leave her alone. I didn't exactly do that great out there either-"

"No, you didn't," the woman, Mei, responded, rounding about to direct her ire at Gohan. "So don't be so fast to defend her when you can't even handle yourself."

"Maybe if I knew what I was trying to handle myself against this wouldn't be such a problem!" The little boy winced and Videl felt sick; the skin covering Gohan's jaw and chin was split in two, the lip peeling down to reveal red-tinted teeth and pink gums. Even Mei looked unsettled and she stepped over, grabbing his hand to press it back up against the wound.

"Why you're not letting me sew this back up," she muttered, and he frowned. Lifting her hands up in a gesture of surrender Mei stood, going back to the counter to pick the phone up. "Once I get a hold of Trunks we'll… we'll _deal_ with this."

"Cause I feel so much better knowing that the _other_ one of the two from the future who fucked everything up is going to be on the case," Gohan hissed out coldly. Videl blinked, suddenly confused. The _future_? The conversation, the day was spiraling farther and farther into the bizarre.

"Um," she said, and all eyes suddenly glanced at her, three pairs of dark brown laced with various expressions of confusion, distrust, and pain. "What… what was that thing? It didn't seem human… it seemed more like… a monster, but I know that's just ridiculous." Videl laughed nervously and Gohan shifted his gaze to Mei.

"… isn't it?"


	13. Shame

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

"… and then he wasn't there mom, it was like something else was there and I knew he couldn't be there because they said that he was _gone_ and it was trying to get out from inside of him and-"

Bulma nodded slowly, lips pursed as her son rambled on about the events that had transpired mere hours before. It was a worrisome thing; never before had he actually _seen_ anything come after him, nor had anything ever made such efforts to go after her son. There was always the chance this was an unrelated event, just another random creepy-crawly attracted to the Briefs, but she wasn't the type to believe in coincidences. It was definitely related to Trunks – the _other_ Trunks – and Mei arriving.

"Trunks," she said, and the child immediately fell silent as he stared wide-eyed at his mother. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Trunks shook his head rapidly. "No, no, I'm fine." He paused and smiled, head tilted slightly, and she glanced over to smile back. "Whatever it was, it couldn't get around the table. I left before anything could happen."

"Good," she said firmly, gaze going back to the road. Something bothered her, a slight difference between her son and the stranger from the future. Face, hair, nose – even their voice was identical, Trunks' a pitch higher but blending perfectly in with his.

Except for the eyes. Trunks had blue, vivid and piercing. _His_ was a shade of purple, a violet that was darker than the lilac of his hair. _Were they always that way?_ There was no base comparison, no point of reference she could look back to and say _yes, they were_ or _no_ and she squirmed with worry. It was unnatural, equal to the girl.

"Trunks," Bulma said after a moment. She turned to look back at him, reaching out to touch his shoulder while she spoke. "I think I want you to stay away from-"

"Mom look out!"

Immediately her foot slammed down on the brake, slowing the hovercar before Bulma could even glance out the windshield. Three police cars were lining the road, the one in the middle torn apart and leaking gas and oil all over the road. She twisted the wheel hard, spinning the vehicle around to further reduce the impact, the side of the car only lightly tapping against the broken squad cruiser as they lurched to a stop.

"Trunks." Gripping the wheel tightly, she looked over to see him already unsnapping the belt-buckle, squirming to get out of his seat. "Trunks, what are you _doing_?"

"I'm going to see what happened."

It was said so matter-of-factly that she had no choice but to gape for a moment as her child hopped from the car, jumping down into a puddle of oil and splashing away across rumbled road. Within moments Bulma composed herself, reached back to grab at the bag that was tucked so neatly under the back seat. Hunting knife, nine millimeter, and a sawed off – the _essentials_. Fingers tracing along the edge of the sheathed knife, she hesitated a moment before pulling the shotgun out. Overkill, maybe, but the situation set her teeth on edge and she hated walking into situations unprepared.

"Trunks, get back here!" Bulma shouted out, stepping from the car as well. There should have been the sound of traffic, of worried pedestrians, but all that she could hear was muted static coming from a broken com-channel. Nose wrinkling – there was blood in the air – she tightened her grip on the gun, easing over toward him.

The boy paused, perched on the top of one of the cruisers, and looked back with a pained expression. "_Wait_ for me," she added, and he grinned.

"I don't have to wait in the car?" Trunks asked and Bulma worried her lip, teeth biting down ever-so-gently.

"… stay close to me," she said finally, working her way between two of the cars, and he eagerly hopped down next to her, face beaming. No, _no_ – "One word out of you and I'll send you back so fast your head will be spinning, so help me." Trunks nodded rapidly, pantomiming zipping his mouth shut as he stood next to her.

No. He shouldn't be here.

Black and red streaks lined paths for them to follow with no sign of any body. Something _bad_ had happened here, people had been _hurt_, and something had come through to drag away the evidence. Most of the evidence, at any rate, and she shivered at the thought of when it would be back to finish the job. Maybe that was the reason for the unnatural quiet; any who saw it were taken away and disposed of before they could speak of it.

There was nothing, just an empty street that reeked of death, and Bulma was about to turn to leave when something groaned lowly. Flicking her gaze to Trunks for a moment – the child looked back at her, shaking his head rapidly as he looked equally perplexed with just a hint of fear – she turned about, eyes trained on a half-decayed building they had passed so carelessly before. One, two, three steps and she gestured for Trunks to say behind her, shotgun gingerly poking at the rubble.

A hand shot up, fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun, and Bulma's finger was pulling back on the trigger when a face pulled up, tan and bruised and angry. "Ve-Vegeta?" she stuttered, freezing at the sight of him. "What are you _doing_ here, what happened-?"

"I could ask you the _same thing_ woman," he growled out, dust rolling from his shirt and hair as he pulled free from the shattered building. Bulma inhaled sharply at the way he held himself, left arm hanging loosely at his side while his right eye was swelling shut. "Was it your _intention_ to send me out after a monster without alerting me to its presence?"

"A monster?" She lowered the gun, brow knitting together in confusion. "Vegeta, I don't know what you're talking about. I just wanted you to find Mei."

"And so I did. She was with Goku's brat." Standing at the full of his unimpressive height, Vegeta eyed the gun held tightly in her hand before looking back to see Trunks standing behind her. His hand was clutching the back of her shirt while peering around her curiously. Growling in irritation he shoved them both to the side, Bulma stumbling back against her son, and took off.

"Wha, Vegeta, wait!" She spun around, eyes wide, and Trunks stepped forward to follow. It was strange how he just ran, boots beating a rhythm against the asphalt; flying would have been a far more effective way of travel.

Caught up in her own thoughts it took her a moment to realize her son was pulling urgently on her sleeve, face twisting with worry. "Mmm, Mom," he said after a moment. "Mom, I can't… I can't feel Dad."

-----

"Look, I want an explanation and I want one now."

Mumei cracked her eyes open to stare at Gohan, expression blank. He scowled at how little she seemed to care, frustrated by the lack of emotion she was showing. "I told you-"

"Right, when _Trunks_ gets here but the hospital has no record of anyone with that name getting checked in and Mrs. Briefs' doesn't know where he is so I'm just going to say that it could take awhile." The words struck a chord and she bristled, back arching as she stretched to her full height. "So stop stalling and _spill_."

"… all right, all _right_," she hissed, and Videl and Goten exchanged nervous glances at the venom in her tone. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll tell you _all about_ our wonderful, twisted future."

"I'll tell you how you fucked everyone over because of your own selfish desires."

-----

Goku exhaled heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead to slip down his cheek and disappear into the fabric of his gi. It was already stained, dark and slick from exertion. Leaning forward a moment, he breathed in deep before straightening and glaring at the mocking figure. "I'm not… going to give up," he hissed, aching muscles shifting back to the ready. The figure shrugged, broken shoulders grinding as they flexed up and down.

"I don't really have time to _wait_ for the impossible then, so I guess I'm just going to have to end this," the figure spoke. He was beaten and battered past the point of recognition but it hardly seemed to affect him, save from jerky and stumbled movements. Goku had thought it would help, but even now he could still see the shadows of familiarity buried beneath the ruined remnants of the face. _Gohan's_ face, the _not_-Gohan's face. It taunted him, forcing him to hold back at the last second as doubt kept on trickling into his mind. _It can't be but is it? _

"Just who are you?"

"We're already been over this." Dark eyes flashed in annoyance and something ripped out of his right shoulder, winding through the tattered flesh to pull his limp-hanging arm back into its socket. Goku grimaced and the Gohan-thing smirked, teeth shining through gaps in his cheek. "I'm your _son_, _Dad._"

He refused to believe it – his mind was rejecting the idea, rebelling against it violently – but Goku could see the resemblance. It was in the eyes and the voice; everything else was faded to shades of grey and reduced to patchwork, a facsimile of what a human should be. There was no mistaking those eyes though, even shining with the spite and hate he could feel emanating from the walking corpse.

The Gohan-thing raised a hand and every muscle in Goku's body tensed; he had seen this before, the monster's twisted version of a ki attack. Black tendrils wrapped around its arm, arching high for a moment before diving down and burrowing deep beneath the ground. As they raced toward him they left a trail of destruction that was almost cartoonish, three perfectly symmetrical lines of torn apart concrete.

It would do more than that to him if he let it.

He was ready, he was prepared, when blue and purple flashed behind the monster. The Gohan-thing whipped about, tendrils twisting in the ground to curve away from Goku as Bulma and Trunks ran into the street behind him, the boy stumbling to a stop behind his mother and clutching at the back of her shirt. Goku felt all the air suddenly rush from him, lungs collapsing in a single instant, and he _froze_ to the ground while feeling the need to run as fast as he could. Vaguely he knew Vegeta was nearby, that Vegeta knew his wife and child were directly in the line of harm's way, but there was no time for _either_ of them to do anything about it.

-----

A silence fell across the room after Mei's words. Gohan's eyes narrowed, the icepack pressed painfully against his chin, and Videl placed a hand on his shoulder; she wasn't sure if it was to keep him seated or to comfort herself. "I did this," he said after a moment, and Mei nodded.

"You did this," she repeated. "When I was eight, Cell attacked. You finally killed him, finally ascended and achieved a power level beyond anything I had ever seen, and all because Cell… killed me."

"… if Cell killed you… you said he killed everyone in your time. There would be no Dragonballs to wish you back."

Mei smiled grimly. "There weren't. You didn't wish me back. You… I don't what happened, but I remember waking up in your arms and you were smiling and crying and laughing and there was dirt all over my body and your arms and a man was standing next to you, a man who terrified me. His eyes were… pure black and he said that… ten years. In ten years, the deal would have to be complete. And you said 'that's fine, I'll make sure she goes through with it', and then the man just vanished. And afterwards this-" she held out her arm, pointing at the tattoo. "This was always there. Her mark."

-----

It felt strangely like déjà-vu though Vegeta was positive his wife and son had never been in a situation like this before, either separately or together. As the inevitable approached, ever so slowly, the end result began to play in a loop in his mind; Bulma and Trunks speared, blood vomiting from their mouths as they were forced off their feet and into the air. Bones would crack, limbs would be severed, and they would lie barely alive to stare balefully at him as a reminder of his failure as a father. They never should have _been_ here, he should have sent them _away_, and it didn't matter how hard he tried to run they were still going to-

Bulma pushed her arm back, shoving Trunks to the side, and flipped the shotgun up in a practiced movement. Without batting an eye she pulled back on the trigger, the bullet ending up buried deep into the skull of Gohan.

The tendrils halted immediately, stopping inches away from her feet, and the outstretched arm of the monster fell slack as the back of its head was blown away. One eye – the only eye it had left – blinked before it crumpled to the ground, black blood oozing out in a puddle beneath it. Bulma snorted, the gun slipping down in her hand as she took a few stuttered step toward it.

Vegeta rushed in, arms circling around her as she sagged back against his chest. "What," he hissed, "was _that?_" She grinned in response, tired eyes looking up as Trunks trailed close, expression curious without a hint of the death he so narrowly avoided.

"And you told me that it was all in my head," she said, voice teasing with just a hint of accusation. Vegeta flinched, mind racing as he tried to remember just _what_ she could be referencing. "That, _that_, that was _not_ in my mind. This is _real_, Vegeta. It's real and it's _deadly_ and it's not going to stop."

Oh. Oh _oh_ oh- "Woman." He shifted his arms, holding her stiffly as Bulma slowly pushed back to stand on her own two feet. "Woman, you can't expect us to believe that this was some demonic hell creature of supernatural origins. There is some _rational_ explanation for it."

"Of course there is Vegeta," Bulma agreed as Goku limped over. Lifting up a hand she pointed to the still corpse and everyone stared mutely as it began to stir, hands groping blinding along the ground as it struggled to pull itself back together. "The explanation is that we need to get _away_ from here so that I can get something to at least _stop_ it, if not kill it. What's going on isn't at all like anything you've ever dealt with before."

-----

Videl grit her teeth, a question dancing at the tip of her tongue – _just what's the big deal with the tattoo anyways? – _when the mark on Mei's arm suddenly shifted. Black dyed squirmed and twisted along pale skin, the eye blinking and rotating to stare at the three sitting across the room from her while the vines tightened about it. She felt nauseated and looked away, gripping Goten's shoulder tightly as the eye spun about.

A pause. "… he made a deal," Mei said slowly, lowering her arm. "And that's why I was brought back. They wanted my body; I wouldn't have been any good to them dead and I wouldn't have been any good to them as young as I was. They needed me older and stronger and they would only _get_ that if he agreed for me."

"How does this-"

"Look, I know!" Mei shouted, cutting Gohan off. "Or more, I _don't_ know. A year ago we went back in time to when Cell appeared in _your_ time. It was Trunks and me and everything was still normal, at least as normal as everything ever got for us, and there were no monsters or ghosts or or- none of this was happening! Gohan told us to 'fix it' and we did and then while we were waiting we got to talking about how the _other_ Trunks had spent so much time in the past and maybe _that's_ where he went wrong, maybe we needed to hitch a ride back to the future right away so we burnt rubber as soon as we were sure he was dead and when we got there everything was fucked. I mean, total waste land, everyone was _dead_, and this lady was there saying that it was stupid for me to think I could hide in time, they would have found me eventually but what was I _thinking_ coming home?" She paused, breathing deep while glaring at him. "Things just got… they got fucked after that, and Gohan, I mean, I wasn't _lying_ when I said he died, but it's like they wouldn't let him _stay_ dead because of the deal, because I wasn't going through with the deal, and I don't even know what the deal _is_ but I just know that they… they have completely destroyed everything good about my brother and I _know_ they will do the same thing to me if I let them come near me."

No one was prepared for the angry speech that Mei all but screamed at them and the silence that came afterwards was welcomed. For a moment the two Sons sat dumbly while Videl's grip tightened, nails digging into Goten's shoulder, and then a low creak sounded out. Everyone jumped on alert, wounded and weary pushing out of their chairs to eye the door warily.

"Oh." It was Gohan and he sounded relieved, the word coming out almost as a bubbling laugh as he sank back down. "Oh, it's just," and then the door opened and a blue-haired woman and a purple-haired child came hurrying in, followed by two bloodied men who seemed far too _together_ for the rips and tears decorating their clothing. Sighting Gohan the taller of the two tossed a small brown bag that Gohan caught eagerly, fingers pulling the ties open to spill out a few green beans into his hands.

"I warned you," Mei said sourly, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms. The shorter man scowled, making a threatening movement toward her, but a word from the blue-haired woman stopped him. "I _told_ you not to go after him. You didn't stand a chance."

"No," he agreed gruffly, and Videl watched curiously as he seemed to wage an internal war before settling on sitting at the kitchen table. "That… _thing_ was not at all what I was expecting. Odd that you were able to escape without any wounds, though."

"Not odd," she said. "Damaging me would be pointless when I'm what he wants. I'm sure she's filled you in already," Mei added, gaze darting over to the woman. For a moment she stared back before looking down, crouching down by the boy to murmur something to him. "Where's Trunks? _My_ Trunks?"

"At the hos-"

"No he's not," she said curtly, cutting the woman off. "I called there an hour ago. They have no record so I called your house; your mother said she tried to pick him up but before she could the nurses said that he already left. Where is he?"

The two men and the woman exchanged a glance, confusion slowly melting into worry. Mei looked from each of them, mouth getting thinner with each passing second. "You _lost_ him?" she hissed out, eyes flashing dangerously, and for a moment Videl swore they turned solid black. _Just like in her story. _

"We didn't lose him-"

"Then where _is_ he?"

"… we don't… know."


	14. Getting Away With Murder

AN: DBZ and all its respective characters are not my property; they're owned by Toei Animation and by Akira Toriyama.

* * *

Pain was what he was aware of when he woke up. It splintered down his jaw and wormed its way into his teeth, spider-walking along the edges of his cheeks to fade into a dull ache behind his eyes. A different pain, a deeper, throbbing one was awaking inside his chest and shoulder and a third was starting to peak in his knee, protesting at every shift he made to move from the cold metal slab.

Trunks groaned and cracked his eyes open, peering into the dim light that greeting him. The room was dark, _black_, and there was nothing to see as he craned his neck.

Scratch that - _tried _to crane his neck. Pain exploded and flared when Trunks attempted to move his head and he let out a sobbing whimper. Something hard and metallic was digging into his mouth, wrenching his jaw open and keeping his head pinned flat. Tiny needles dug into his gums to keep the contraption firm, tiny needles that drew pinpricks of blood with every shift of his head. He gagged and tried to swallow, but even that was impossible from the angle of his neck.

"I see you're _finally_ awake." He glanced to the side, eyes straining to catch sight of the red-headed nurse. She smirked and stepped closer, one hand glided lightly across the fabric of his shirt as he tried to mumble something out, words unintelligible. "It was such a bore with you sleeping. It's never any fun when there's no response."

_Why?_ It was such a stupid question but he couldn't help but try to mouth it; the pain was driving him crazy and Trunks was willing to do anything to make it stop. The woman smiled make, teeth dazzling white, and shook her head. "Pretty boy, because I _can_," she cooed, and he whimpered again. "And because we needed to set the bait inside the trap so that the pretty girl will come running." Stepping away she laughed, nails sliding down a chalkboard, and then held her hands together, butts of her palms touching. "Pretty girl will come running and then CRACK!" She slapped her hands together and grinned. "Pretty girl will be all _ours._"

He glared and she turned back to him, face twisting into a sympathetic expression as she stepped closer. One hand reached out to stroke his hair as she nodded. "I know, _I know_. It hurts, doesn't it?" Trunks blinked, wariness spreading over his features before he shifted slowly. "I'm sorry, but if it doesn't hurt it wouldn't be _real_ and she wouldn't be scurrying to help you. You don't run to save the damsel who's _not_ in distress, do you?" she asked, and Trunks' brows drew together as he thought about what she said. She pouted a moment before smiling, patting him on the check. "No, of course not! I'm glad we're on the same page."

Trunks wasn't quite sure he agreed, but there was no way for him to communicate his discontent before pain ratcheted through his chest. He inhaled sharply through his nose and gagged on the blood and spit accumulated in his throat while the girl tittered and giggled above him. "Distress pretty, dis_tress_!" she said, lifting a hand and waving about something thing, metallic, and coated with a dripping substance. "You have to be in _pain_ and it has to be _real_ or else this is going to all be for _nothing_."

He groaned and flexed his arms, strained against the metal binding him to the table. It bit into his wrists but for a moment it seemed to give, pulling free from the table, when the girl laughed again. "Pretty pretty, don't be _silly_. Do you really think I wouldn't make sure you couldn't fly free like a birdie?" Hands together again, she whistled and flapped her fingers, notes turning sour as her hands dipped down. "The birdie got his wings _clipped_, the pretty did, yes he _did_." On that note she reached out, pinched his cheek as her tone dipped into saccharine-sweet baby talk.

Trunks wanted to vomit and it wasn't just from the pain anymore.

"Alex!" The girl blinked, green eyes pooling red for a moment as she twisted about. The smiled melted from her face as footsteps signaled another person entering the room, a female from the sound of the voice, but within moments she was all sunshine and rainbows again. "Is everything under control here?"

"Of course Meg," she said, and Trunks tried to twist his head about to see the other figure, pain be damned. In a moment they were close enough, dim light shining down over blond hair and ice blue eyes. "As soon as she hears the other birdie will come flying in, quick quick, to rescue the injured one all scared and alone."

"Good." The blond, Meg, sneered down at Trunks and he glared back defiantly, recognizing her as the woman who had first approached them regarding the 'deal'. "We need a way of making sure she knows that we have him and that he needs her."

Alex cocked her head to the side, face scrunching up cutely with confusion as she tapped a finger against her mouth. Trunks felt his heart skip a beat before hammering away as the look slipped away and a smile spread over her face. "Oh, I have some ideas!" she sang out, twisting around to face him. "We could give a little present to her, a little gift from our caged pretty. She'll come running then, don't you think?" Yes, he agreed with her assessment, but doubted that the present would amount to something as simple as a haircut.

Meg nodded in agreement, hand stretching out to pick something up. Metal clattered against metal and Trunks froze when something sharp pressed up against his fingers, digging into the skin around his joint. "This may pinch a moment," she said, voice mocking before there was a _snip, crack, _and he _screamed _as best he could, the sound coming out gargled and through his nose. The woman smirked as Alex crouched down to scoop the digit off the floor. "You're not nearly so tough now, are you?"

"Huck hoo," he forced out, and the blond grinned.

"Quite a feisty little temper you have, all things considering." Alex smiled and handed the bloody mess to Meg. "Take good care of him Alex. We don't want to disappoint Trish now."

_Trish._ There was a third – Alex, Meg, and Trish – and the names seem vaguely familiar, though Trunks couldn't process much through the pain-addled fog clouding his mind. Red-head nodded as the blond walked away and he tucked the information away as she stepped closer, metal glinting in her hand as she bent over him. "We're going to have _fun_, aren't we pretty?" she cooed.

Trunks shuddered, closing his eyes.

-----

"You're not leaving." A pause. "Mei, are you even listening to me?... stop looking through the cupboards, _look_ _at me_ – you're not leaving!"

Reaching up, Bulma slammed the cabinet shut, barely missing Mei's fingers as the woman drew back instinctively at the last second. She turned to glare down at her but the aqua-haired woman refused to back down. After a moment the younger glanced away, mouth twitching. "I _have_ to go," she mumbled. "And there has to be_ something_ useful in here so if you don't _mind?_"

"Yeah, cause generally the boys look for their battle aids in the kitchen before heading out to fight something," Bulma drawled out sarcastically. "Trunks is a big boy, remember? Certainly seemed more the capable of handling himself when fighting Cell from what I heard."

"And all those skills he was able to use against Cell will be worthless if something _else_ catches him," Mei snapped back. "He told me that he talked to you so you must know a little bit about all of this. You know that ki is worthless around anything supernatural."

"And why exactly _is_ that?" Both women turned to see Vegeta stepping into the room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Why are we taking it for granted that we're going to be reduced to the same level as pathetic humans around those things? I've never seen anything capable of doing that," he said, the undercurrent of his tone suggesting that he had seen _plenty_ of unbelievable things in the universe already. They exchanged a look.

"… Ki is… natural. It's energy from the world," Bulma said softly. "You pull it in from yourself but you can also pull it in from what's around you. Ghosts and zombies and shifters-"

"Shifters?"

"Creatures that have no fluid shape and can change form. Shapeshifters. There are also banshees and blackdogs and – they're not _natural. _They're not even supposed to be in this world…" Bulma paused, worrying her lower lip softly. "That they're here interferes with the workings of everything. Electricity, your connection to your power…"

"I have been _in_ the 'other world' before," Vegeta said. "There was nothing wrong with my abilities there. Kakarrot used his time there to train, as did the other earth weaklings. Your explanation-"

"Because it's not the same, okay?" Mumei said, sighing. "It's not the other world, it's not the place you go when you die. I know… I've heard all the stories about the Dragonballs and about what G-… what Goku did and we were confused too; how could there be such things as ghosts or demons, didn't he come across them there and… it's like another _dimension_. That's what Gohan tapped into when he made his deal. And the things that live there are so completely opposed to everything that exist here that it's like the positive and negative magnets being pushed up together, only they're more negative than we're positive."

"So… if it's another… dimension, how is it that you both seem to have vague ideas how to defend yourselves against them?"

Mei smiled tiredly. "Well, when you spend a year running from things that are straight from your nightmares you end up learning what does and doesn't work if you expect to survive-"

"-And this isn't the first time this dimension has been connected to our world," Bulma finished. "About eight hundred years ago the rift wasn't sealed off and it served as hell, the place where people went after dying. The afterlife was truly something people were terrified of and all sorts of stories and religions were built around the concept of avoiding it, remnants of which can still be found today. Judaism, Islam, Christianity… but the story says that when the first person who created the dragon balls on earth did so here, the first wish was that hell, the true hell, was sealed away forever."

Mei looked at Bulma appraisingly, looking equally surprised as Vegeta. "I didn't know that," she said. "I thought that… honestly, I didn't know what to think, I just knew that… if I ran fast enough I could avoid it." The older woman shrugged, fingers pinching at the fabric of her shirt.

"You said it yourself, you've only been running for a year." She looked straight up at her, eyes bleak and wearied. "After you left, whatever was after you followed close behind and stuck around in hopes of getting the jump on you. For seven years I've been learning how to fighting; I didn't even have the luxury of running. You learn a lot if you want to survive."

Vegeta glanced between the two, shifting before craning his head to glance over his shoulder. Videl, Trunks, and Goten were still sitting on the sofa in the other room, the teenager talking softly to the two boys while Goten huddled up against her, and Goku and Gohan had left to look for their missing wife and mother – the senzu beans had healed all wounds, thankfully. Not wanting to worry the children – there was becoming a separation in his mind between those who could fight and those would couldn't and the appropriate actions to take around them – he lowered his voice before glancing back at the agitated women. "So. These… _things. _How do you propose we fight them?"

Mei let out a harsh laugh as Bulma raised a brow. "We _don't_," the dark-haired girl spat out while his wife seemed to murmur out a list of kitchen ingredients. Both paused to glance at each other, irritation evident in their expressions. "Maybe you can hold them off for a little while using salt and silver," Mei said after a moment, "but even if it's just an angry _spirit_ it's going to find a way in and we're not talking about spirits. We're talking about full-blown demons and zombies and a salt-line isn't going to stop a zombie. I… I don't even _know_ what could stop a zombie."

"We're talking about an actual resurrected being? That was actually your Gohan brought back from the dead?" She nodded curtly in response to Bulma's question, lips pressed tight as she leaned back against the counter.

"It was… punishment, I guess, for both him and me because I'm not doing whatever it is I'm supposed to do. He can't 'die' until the deal's done but he's not allowed to live either. And he wasn't always like that, the crazy. I mean, Gohan was pretty… loose in the head to begin with but when we came back and we found him like that…" Mei grimaced, eyes burning with the tell-tale pricks of tears. "I can't really blame him. I guess having your body rot around you would make anyone become a little shaky in the brainpan."

Bulma sighed, running a hand back through her hair. "I've read lore about them and Kami knows how many movies there have been. Headshots obviously don't work-"

"No, he just regrows the missing parts."

"-And I've never heard of any zombie having an ability like that so I'm not sure he really _is_ one. Or, if he is, his life is definitely tied to something that's keeping him walking…"

"It's that man that I saw." Mei looked between the two of them, right hand rubbing the marking on her left arm before grabbing at it in an attempt to hide it away. "He was there when I woke up and he was there when we came back. I don't know if he's a demon or what he is but he seems to be whatever holds or is in charge of the deal. If we could find him we could at least find out what this whole thing is about and maybe break it off-"

"This may be a stupid question." Both women paused to look warily at Vegeta as the saiyan crossed his arms, mouth twisting into a frown. "But, if these all-powerful creatures that are slipping through a gap in a seal made previously by the dragon are what are causing these problems in the first place, wouldn't a better use of our time be to look for the dragonballs so that we can ask the dragon to reseal the hole so that this stops happening?"

Bulma stared at him a moment, slowly nodding as she processed the idea. "… it won't work," she said after a moment. "Not entirely; Shenlong isn't strong enough to send everything away _and_ seal the hole. But he could seal it which would leave only a limited number. It would cripple them significantly."

"So instead of a _limitless_ supply of supernatural ghoulies we'd only have a _limited_ one. I'm seeing a slightly better alternative being to wish that Gohan's deal had never been made. I wouldn't be cursed with this thing, he wouldn't be stuck in the form he is, and everything would go back to being just peachy for us."

"Maybe for you," Bulma shot back at the sullen woman. "But our timeline would still be shot to hell. You're the one who tampered with it to begin with; you should be the one to bite the bullet and fix it."

Mei glared back, mouth opening to snap something cruel and cutting, but her response died as the hair around her face slowly lifted to dance in the air. Vegeta eyed her curiously; her power level was still held firmly in check so the sudden show wasn't being caused by any shift in the air currents. Her expression melted into one first of confusion and then into terror as a ripple ran through the cabinets surrounding her and the stray packets of sugar ripped out through her earlier panicked assault twisted in the unfelt wind on the counter.

"Vegeta, Bulma." She swallowed hard and the pots hanging above the kitchen banged loudly, causing her to cringe. Even Vegeta started to feel vaguely nervous and he reached out to try to sense where Goku and Gohan where. For a moment there was a flicker of power in the distance, far too faint for them, but it cut off before he was able to pinpoint a location. Confused, he tried to read Mei or the three resting in the other room and ran into a wall of static.

Oh. _Oh_.

" You need to-" Something slammed into Mei, lifting her up off the ground and throwing her back against the sink. She was pinned back, impressions of claw-marks digging back into her shoulders and tearing tiny holes into the already worn fabric of her shirt, and before either Bulma or Vegeta could do anything to help her they were flung back, dragged by their necks to through to kitchen door and thrown onto the grass outside. They landed side by side on their backs, elbows digging tracts in the ground, and the door slammed shut as Mei and Videl screamed.

For a moment they both lay there, staring up at the door. The screams were cut off and loud thumps followed, heavy footsteps on wooden floors. Bulma recovered first, lurching to her feet to hurry back to the door, but as she tried to grab at the handle something punched her in the gut, slamming her into the arms of the off-guard Vegeta.

The screams started up again and something rattled against one of the windows, curtains shaking as a hand pressed and dragged down its length before ripping away. In his arms he felt Bulma struggle, kicking back and cursing his name as she fought to free herself from his grip, but Vegeta only tightened his hold as he stared at trembling house. "Let me go, let me _go! _Our _son_ is in there!" she sobbed out, heels digging tracts into the dirt as she tried vainly she wrest herself away.

"He'll survive," was his response as he dragged her away. Mei had the correct idea before. Finding Trunks, finding the dragonballs, they were the only chances they had now to end this.


End file.
